Ethan placed the letter his uncle had given him in the desk in the corner of the living room. Gratitude, wonder, optimism, and a dozen other feelings rolled into a ball of excitement. For the first time in years he had a clear direction.

Not of his father’s choosing.

Not of Brigitte’s choosing.

But his. He wanted nothing more than to work at building this practice, and becoming more of a part of this wonderfully quirky community. There was no decision to make.

His cell rang, and he hesitated, recognizing the number. If he had worked through Christmas, he wouldn't have been available to take the dreaded phone call. He let the phone ring again, then expelled a heavy sigh. “Hello.”

“Ethan. Merry Christmas, son.”

“Merry Christmas to you too, Dad.” Ethan closed his eyes and took a slow breath, knowing his father had been drinking by the way he slurred his words.

“Your brothers are here. I expected you would be home for Christmas.”

No doubt his siblings were home with their wives and kids—each group a perfect family portrait. “I know. Trying to get to Hilton Head this time of year is tough. There are always closures and delays. Even getting out of Denver this year would have been tough.”

“Your brothers make it every year. Next year try harder, would you?” The statement was more in the tone of a command, an order Ethan no longer felt the need to obey. “And,” his father continued on like a bulldozer, “we still need to discuss your career.”

Not happening. “Maybe we can catch up in the new year, Dad.” His chest tightened, knowing full well he didn't want to discuss anything with his father, but he placated his father to ensure his mother didn’t get hit with the brunt of his father’s temper.

“Dr. Hamlin tells me you haven't returned his calls. University Medical is an honor roll research hospital. The best in the Carolinas. Working with a team of top-tier doctors would be an excellent opportunity, better than where you are now.”

“I’m not sure I agree. I like working at the office and urgent care clinic, and doing a bit of search and rescue.”

“Putting Band-Aids on elbows isn’t what you went to school for. If you’re not going to put your education to use, you might as well have taken creative writing.”

“Dad—”

“Listen to me, son. With student loans and bills to pay, you'll regret not taking your career more seriously.”

And who says I haven’t already paid off my loans? “I'm not sure I will, Dad. I love what I do. And I like helping people.”

“Such a waste of talent. Did I tell you your brother was just promoted to Vice President of Operations at the bank?”

Typical. His dad couldn’t wait to tell him about his younger brothers’ accomplishments and tighten the screws to apply more pressure. He’d received two emails forwarding the press release announcing his brother’s prestigious promotion, the first from his brother, the second from his father. “Congratulate David for me, would you?”

“Hold on, your mother wants to talk to you.”

“Ethan?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hold on. Let me close the door so I can hear you better.” The clicking of high heels crossing a tiled floor and a door snicking shut reached him through the phone’s speaker. “There, that's better.”

“Sorry, I couldn't make it home, Mom, but you know it’s for the best.”

“Don't let William make you feel guilty for not coming home, honey. You just keep doing what you're doing. I want you to be happy.”

“I'm working on it, Mom.”

“And how's Thomas?”

His dad would never consider asking how his older brother was doing, but his mother had always been the peacemaker in the family. “Tom’s fine. In fact, he's looking to retire next year.”

“Oh?” His mother's voice swung up an octave.

“He's leaving me his practice if I want it.”

“If? Is there a question? You love Colorado.”

“Blue skies 360 days a year, skiing, mountains. It’s not a bad place to live.”

“Tom's always been a kind man. His offer is generous, and I’m sure you’ll make the right decision. Happiness is priceless. Just remember that.”

Ethan gripped the phone, holding it tight against his ear. “Has dad been treating you well?”

The silence told him more than words.

“He’s not drinking as much these days,” his mother’s voice had pulled inward, “but you know your father. He's always had a temper, and he always wants what he wants.”

“I wish you hadn’t stayed with him for the sake of us kids.”

“Oh, Ethan. It was my job to protect you and your bothers. I did the best I could.”

“But still. If anything happens to you, Mom—”

“I’m fine, honey. It’s not your job to worry about me.”

“I know it's not about the money. I've put enough in your personal bank account to give you a cushion in case you ever decide to leave. You could start over. Find contentment.”

“I know you disagree with my decision to stay. But staying was my decision to make. As cantankerous as William is, I still love him. He provided a good life for me and all you kids, and I can't imagine my life without him. I think you know what I'm saying.”

Love. Damn that feeling. It could rip a person's heart in two. But in his mother’s case, he thought protection was a more appropriate word. Really? Who could love a man like his father, who’d been raised to exhibit no feelings. To suck it up. To be unemotional. The man who raised him. Ethan’s soul wept for the young boy who never got to play. “I do. Just know if you ever need anything, I’ll be here.”

The background noise suddenly got louder. “Here’s your father.”

“Mom. Please don’t tell Dad about Tom’s offer. It will only cause more trouble.”

“I believe you're right, honey.”

“About what?” his father's voice boomed through the speaker. “Give me the phone.”

“Take care of yourself, Ethan.” His mother's fragile voice made him regret not booking a flight home.

“Ethan?” His father’s voice made him clench his jaw to keep from saying what he’d really like to say. But he couldn’t. For his mother’s sake. He'd have gone home if he had been sure his presence wouldn't create unnecessary tension. But he stayed away for the sake of his mother.

“Yes, Dad?”

“Think carefully about what I said.” Here it comes. “I will not have one of my sons be a burden to society. You won't get a cent from me, or the trust. You haven’t earned the right.”

“I know, Dad.”

“As long as that's understood.”

The virtual poke of his father’s finger could be felt hundreds of miles away.

The first time he'd overheard his Nan, his mom’s mother, say something about his dad being desperate to get his hands on the trust money, and getting married to seal the deal, he’d been about ten. He learned Grandpa Brennan had established a trust with the stipulation his boys earned their first million by the time they were twenty-five. Otherwise the money would go to charity.

Granddad and Nan, his mom’s parents, owned several restaurant chains in South Carolina. Several were in his mother’s name for tax purposes, and were enough to meet the trust requirements when she signed the restaurants over to her new husband as a wedding gift.

Young and naïve and in love, his mom didn’t know any better. The socialite wedding was the event of the summer. Everyone on the who’s-who list had been invited. His father had no idea Ethan knew the truth, and since that day he’d lost all respect for his dad.

“I hear you loud and clear, Dad.”

Money and position were all his dad cared about. The same with Grandpa Brennan. But Ethan saw how money made people do foolish things, and had vowed to end the vicious cycle. Money corrupted. Stole a person’s soul. Left only hatred and a bitter taste behind.

“Ethan. Take care of yourself. I need to run. The family is waiting for me. We’re attending late mass, and need to leave.”

I’ll pray for you, Dad. “Say hi to everyone for me.”

“Call your brothers next week. They will be expecting your call.”

“Yes, sir.”

He lowered the phone from his ear, disconnected, and tossed it onto the coffee table, his hands shaking.

He stayed on the couch and studied the ornaments on the tree, then became mesmerized by the blinking lights. A hand touched his shoulder, and his body lurched.

“I’m sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I called your name, but you didn't hear me.”

When he didn't respond, she sat down next to him.

“Are you okay?”

She shouldn't be able to read his expressions. He'd worked years to mask his true feelings. Men avoid showing sissy emotions. Men were tough, powerful, resilient—according to his dad—not crybabies.

“I’m okay.”

“Could have fooled me. You look like a person who's just had all the marshmallows on their hot chocolate stolen.”

He shouldn't have found the childlike sentiment endearing, but he did. In fact, he found her charming. He ran the back of his hand down her warm, soft cheek. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. Oh, God. He was in trouble. He should've gotten up and left, yet Christmas magic surrounded them. He slipped a hand around the back of her neck and pulled. He wanted to feel her soft mouth, taste her sweetness.

He shouldn't indulge.

“Tell me you want this.”

“Ethan?”

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

“I can’t.”

“Then I'll just have to be strong enough for both of us.”

She reached for him. “Please don’t.”

He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her eyes, her nose. “You’re pure heaven.”

“I don't want heaven, I just want you. I want to show you what you've been missing. To show you what life can be like again.”

Her breath sent a fiesta of chills across his skin. “But you're not staying.”

“No. But I want to give this to you. It's your Christmas gift.”

He could taste the rum from the eggnog on her lips, but he knew she wasn't drunk. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

With a groan, he pulled her to him, his arms circling her waist, lifting the fabric of her shirt to touch her heated skin. He leaned back just a fraction of an inch to look at her face. Her darkened gaze, full of desire, made him want things he shouldn’t want. She shuddered before she pressed her lips against his as she reached and searched and pulled him closer. She wanted this as much as he did.

His tongue traced along the lower edge of her lips until she allowed him entry. He ran a hand along the edge of her panty line, diving below the elastic, trying to touch every inch of skin.

She reached for the edge of his sweater and lifted. The wool and undershirt hit the floor. He hissed as she traced a finger down the center of his chest. Seconds later, she followed the same line with her tongue.

“Noelle?”

“Shhh. I’m imagining you with frosting smeared on your chest.”

“Chocolate or vanilla cherry?”

“How about both?”

He chuckled, then pressed his lips to her neck. “You already taste good enough to eat.”

“Then take me upstairs.”

He thrust his fingers in her hair and gently tilted her head back. “Noelle?”

Her eyes locked with his. “Doctor, stop being so practical and protective. I’m a grown woman. I know what this is.”

“A bad idea?”

“It’s two consenting adults, enjoying each other's company and each other's bodies, and sharing pleasure.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head. “That sounds rather clinical.”

“Stop it, Ethan.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop living in the past. Stay with me. Here. In the now.”

“Fine, then let’s do the wild-and-sexy on the floor, in front of the fireplace, under the Christmas tree. I want to indulge. It’s Christmas, after all.”

Her breath caught. “Sounds like fun.”

He wasn't even sure if she’d ever experienced wild-and-sexy on the floor, but he’d like to be the one who showed her.

“Then let’s get rid of these clothes. I need you. I need this.”

Amazement skittered across her face. She blinked up at him. Without saying another word, she reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it up.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

You…I’ve been waiting for you.