I t was the day after Thanksgiving—Black Friday, known for the extraordinary shopping deals. For Jane, who made all her Christmas purchases before Halloween, it was Decorating Day, though she had hit up Macy’s early that morning for some last minute trimmings .

More importantly, this year it was the day she and Ian had agreed to meet up. She’d wanted to get together sooner, but putting up even a string of lights before Thanksgiving was uncouth, as every true Christmas enthusiast knew, and that was the guise she’d used to lure the man to her house so many weeks before the event she’d hired him for .

When he, at last, rang the bell, she forced herself to take a deep breath and count to five before opening the door, so as not to appear too eager. Still, she couldn’t help the smile that erupted at the sight of him. Even after all the time she’d spent staring at his pictures online, she was startled by his rugged good looks the same way she was startled when she bit into a chocolate-covered cherry—she expected the candied fruit she found inside, and yet it always came as a surprise to her taste buds. A delightful surprise .

And so, Ian Brooks was a delightful surprise to her eyes .

It worked out to be a benefit for their first—er, second—encounter, as it was easier to pretend that she’d never seen him before. And she was definitely pretending that. No way was she admitting that she’d looked him up online, nor that she remembered him from a very brief moment in the dark more than two months previously .

If he were to bring it up, that would be another thing .

Then, to her surprise, he did. “Hey, it’s you,” he said, after they’d stood grinning at each other for several seconds. “We’ve met before, haven’t we?” His brow furrowed as he tried to place her .

How was it possible that his thinking face was even more alluring? She wondered suddenly what other expressions looked like on his features. How he looked when he was bored. When he worried. When he came .

Quickly, she tried to erase that last image from her mind, or at least to save it for a more appropriate time. “Uh, that’s right,” she said, confirming his recognition of her. That was the least she could do after she’d seen him so intimately. In her mind, but same diff .

“On the docks .”

“Yes, that’s where.” She hoped it seemed like this had only just occurred to her. Though an avid supporter of the arts, she’d never been good at dramatics .

“Huh.” Ian stood quiet for a beat, studying her with the same intensity she gave to a new harp piece. Carefully. Deliberately, as though searching out every blemish of her skin, every nuance to her expression. It made her uncomfortable .

It made her feel seen .

With a ragged intake of breath, she broke the moment. “Why don’t you come on in ?”

She stepped aside to let him into her foyer, taking his coat from him and hanging it in the coat closet before leading him into her living room .

Ian’s eyes widened as he looked around the scene before him. “Wow. This is a lot of Christmas decorations .”

He wasn’t wrong .

There were rather a lot of boxes and plastic totes strewn around the room. She’d been pulling out a few at a time from their various stored locations for the past several weeks to prepare for today. It looked crazier than it was when nothing was distributed .

Once all the boxes were unpacked, tasteful decorations would adorn every room in the house. Scented candles would be tucked into pine boughs, lights twinkling from the ceilings, and her entire serving ware cabinet would soon be replaced with more seasonal dishes. It was her own personal wonderland, and she longed for it all year .

Fortunately, Ian’s remarks didn’t hold the judgment she might have expected. “There’s more in the attic that I’d like you to help bring down in a bit .”

“Impressive.” He seemed like he meant it. “Just point the way .”

“I’m really into the holiday.” She said as she led him deeper into her brownstone. She wasn’t sure why she sounded so apologetic. She had every right to love what she loved, and it wasn’t as if he were challenging her. She just didn’t like how her enthusiasm might construe neurosis. Or, worse, loneliness .

“You said that, didn’t you?” He stopped, seemingly distracted by an item sticking out of one of the storage crates. “Is this the garland you bought that night ?”

“You have quite a good memory. That ’s impressive.” Or at least it made it less strange how accurate her memory was about their brief encounter. “And yes. It is the one I bought that night. You will need to put up the matching garland outside, but first we should sort through all the items. We can talk about preparations for the date while we do .”

“Sounds like a plan .”

“Oh, but before that…” she paused. Wanting to get the most awkward part of their meet-up out of the way early, she’d left her pocketbook on the coffee table. “We should work out payment. Is this acceptable? I’ll give you the second installment when the gig is over.” She handed him the check she’d written out earlier, letting her fingers brush across his the same way as they had when she’d given him his check the last time .

His brows lifted when he noticed the amount she’d given him. “Uh, yes. This is quite acceptable .”

Good. As it should be. She’d written it for far more than she was sure he’d expected. Jane firmly believed that you got what you paid for, so she’d made sure she’d paid substantially. In return, she hoped he’d be amenable to all she required .

“I hoped we could get together at least once a week until the wedding,” she said now. Twice would be preferable, but they’d get there .

“Whatever you want, lady. At this rate, you have my body and soul .”

She laughed uneasily because he was joking and because she might not refuse if he wasn’t. Wouldn’t refuse his body, anyway. She was sure she had no use for a second soul, though, even after just the short time he’d been there, she did find she enjoyed his companionship .

They fell into an easy rhythm, anticipating each other’s movements, as they unloaded boxes down the stairs. Jane tried not to stare at the way the muscles in his arms flexed when he reached for one at the top of a stack .

It didn’t work .

The point was, she tried. And although she was fairly certain she’d been caught doing it, he didn’t say anything about it. Perhaps the gentlemanly behavior wouldn’t be too hard to encourage, after all .

Once everything was safely on the living room floor, they started unloading. For the umpteenth time, she congratulated herself on coming up with this plan. Her house would be perfect in no time flat—it was like an early present, not having to do all the work alone .

It was comfortable, too, doing this with Ian, talking minimally and only about the work at hand. When they’d made work of nearly half the boxes, Ian sat back on his feet and stretched his arms over his head so that his T-shirt rose, exposing chiseled abs above the line of his jeans .

She tried not to stare, and when that proved impossible, she tried to at least not drool .

“So, this date…?” he asked .

She closed her mouth—yes, she’d been gaping—and forced her attention on the list she’d prepared mentally. “Right. Let me start by saying that in order to show up Blake, well, how can I say this? There are some things that will need some work .”

They’d also need to come up with a fake career and a story about how they met. But before all that, she needed to address his speech. Delicately .

“Let me guess,” Ian said as she worried her lip, trying to find a good way to broach the subject of his unpleasant dialect. “You’d prefer if I spoke like this .”

Again, Jane gaped. His last sentence had been uttered with a perfectly neutral American accent, no trace of Southie in his words at all .

“I think I mentioned I studied acting,” he explained. “I was always good at dialects .”

“I’ll say. I guess I can mark that one off the to-do list .”

“What else you got on that list of yours?” The accent was back, but far less concerning this time. In fact, now that she knew he could turn it off, it was even sort of charming .

“I…I don’t want to offend you.” At least she didn’t have to instruct him on hygiene. His freshly showered scent had wrapped around her as he’d passed her walking into the house. His nails, she’d remarked soon after, were cut short and clean, and the scruff on his face appeared well groomed .

“Listen, there’s nothing offensive about that paycheck you handed me. I’m yours to mold .”

She pretended she didn’t like the way that made her heart quicken .

“Okay then. I’ll want to take you to get a new suit. I know you said you had one, but this will be my treat. To coordinate it with my outfit.” That sounded good. “We should do that in the next week or so to get it back in time. Also, you need a backstory .”

“I can say I work in business. No one ever really knows what that means, I don’t think,” Ian offered .

“Blake does,” Jane said grimly. “How about something even less specific, something more boring? Most importantly, something no one will ever care to look into .”

They looked at each other. His eyes were two brown pools she could easily drown in if she wasn’t on her guard. He was not here to crush on. He was here to do her a favor .

“Import/export?” he offered .

“Perfect,” she said, not totally convinced she was talking about his job. He bent from on top of the ladder as she reached up to hand him a section of the string lights they were hanging around the window. “All that’s left for today is working out our story .”

He quirked a single brow. “Our story ?”

“Of how we met .”

He fastened the string to the last of the hooks he’d placed along the top of the glass frame, and then peered down at her. “Why don’t we just use the real one ?”

She was flabbergasted. “Oh, we’re not telling anyone we met online. That would defeat — ”

With a wave of his hand, he cut her off. “Not that. The first time.” He descended the ladder, then, once on the ground, leaned his elbow on one of the rungs. “I’d gone to see a free exhibit at the Art Institute with the twins as part of a school assignment. They took off with friends, of course, and so I wandered over to the docks. I was so lost in thought that I hadn’t realized that something had fallen out of my pocket — ”

“A contract,” she chimed in. “It looked very important .”

He nodded. “—and you ran after me to return it. Good thing you caught me before I had to run for my train .”

“It wasn’t a train,” she corrected, wanting the story to sound less plebian. “You were meeting your driver .”

“Yes,” he winked. “That’s what I meant .”

She picked up on the next part of the story. “Anyway, it was an important contract .”

“Very important. I was beyond glad to have it back .”

“You were so grateful you asked for my number.” She smiled, proud of the direction she’d taken this fable .

Ian shook his head. “That wasn’t the reason I asked for your number .”

Jane wrinkled her nose. “It wasn’t?” It had been a believable transition, as far as she was concerned .

“Nope. It was the dot of buttercream on your upper lip .”

“That’s a silly reason.” It was creative, she’d give him that. But she wanted a story that made her sound romantic and heroic, not like a hot mess .

“So it’s silly. But it was the only thing I could think about the whole time we were talking.” Something about the way his eyes twinkled said that this little detail just might not be made up .

She brought her hand to her mouth and gasped. “I had buttercream on my lip? No !”

“Yes. You did.” His amused tone wasn’t helping the situation .

“Well, that’s embarrassing.” Horrific was more like it. She lowered her head, her cheeks warming .

Ian took a step forward and bent to meet her gaze. “It was adorable .”

She was no longer sure how much of their story was fact and how much was fiction, but her blush deepened as if the compliment he’d given were true. “You should have told me .”

He shrugged. “I knew it would make you uncomfortable. So I asked for your number instead .”

She lifted her chin in challenge. “Were you planning to call me to tell me about the buttercream ?”

He laughed. “I was planning to call you, period .”

“And then you did .”

He was standing so close—when had that happened? She liked it. Liked the way she could see the tiny creases around his eyes and the length of his lashes .

“The rest is history.” His eyes zoomed in on her mouth as though it were still capped in frosting .

She had to resist the desire to lick the imaginary sweetness from her lip .

The air between them was thick and hot and charged, and she knew if she stepped back, she could stretch it out. Could ease the tension that hung like the lights he’d just strung tautly along her windows .

But she stayed perfectly still .

With his gaze still pinned to her mouth, Ian said, softly, “I wanted so much to kiss it off of you .”

Her breath hitched. Had he really wanted to kiss her? “We’d only just met .”

She wondered if he might lean in and try to kiss her now. She wondered more how she’d respond if he did .

But then he was brushing past her to finish adhering the lights at the bottom of the frame. “Makes a great story, though, doesn’t it ?”

“Right. It makes a great story.” Because that’s what it had been—a story, and nothing more .

Ian bent to plug the cord into the socket. Then he stood back to admire the work .

“What do you think?” he asked .

She crossed to stand next to him. “It’s perfect .”

Then, because she liked him enough to want to be honest and because she knew that he’d be leaving soon, but mostly because she wasn’t ready for this dizzy, buzzy sensation inside of her to end, she said, “I have a confession.” She turned toward him, bold and trembling all at once. “I looked your picture up online before you got here .”

His eyes gleamed with the reflection of the white twinkling lights in front of them. “I have a confession, too—so did I .”

She let out a relieved laugh. “I guess that’s the era we live in.” It probably should have concerned her if he hadn’t looked her up .

“Did you remember we’d met before?” He cocked his head, studying her .

The way he looked at her should have made her uncomfortable, but, instead it made her feel good. Good enough that she felt she could be honest with him. “I did, actually .”

“So did I .”

Her chest tightened with his admission. “And you still took the job .”

“You still offered .”

“I guess I did .”

The sun had set outside, and the room had darkened so the white lights were the only thing lit in the room. It made the atmosphere feel warm and intimate. This was Christmas. This was the feeling she identified most with this holiday, the feeling she seemed to spend the rest of the year chasing .

Funny how strong and easily achievable that feeling was this year. Usually it didn’t come until the big day itself, when the tree was perfectly trimmed and the candles were lit and Bing Crosby crooned over the speakers .

She wondered if Ian felt it too .

“You said that was all for today?” he asked then, breaking her trance .

Well, that answered that question. He definitely didn’t feel it too .

“Yes. I suppose it is.” She shook the melancholy off and smiled. “Thank you so much. You can’t know how helpful you’ve been. I’m never this far ahead of schedule.” At this rate, she’d be able to bake double the goodies for guests to take home after her annual Christmas dinner party .

“No problem,” he said, shrugging off the compliment .

What had she expected? He was hired help, and his shift was over. Of course he’d be eager to get home .

She followed him as he headed to the coat closet. He retrieved his jacket from inside. Then, putting one arm into a sleeve, he chuckled. “And you didn’t believe in the magic of Christmas wishes .”

Jane raised an intrigued eyebrow. “Whatever are you talking about?” She remembered that conversation from their first encounter, but couldn’t for the life of her figure out why he was bringing it up now .

Also, she was a bit flattered that he remembered it. And for that brief few seconds while she waited for him to answer, she held her breath, as though maybe there had been something magic, something she’d missed. Something that Ian hadn’t .

Answering as if it were as clear as day, he said, “Seeing each other again. What were the odds of that ?”

She let her breath out slowly, hoping her disappointment didn’t show. “Pshaw. That wasn’t magic. It was coincidence .”

Ian opened the front door and paused before stepping outside. “Was it? I don’t know. It seems like a wish come true to me .”

Suddenly she remembered that vague wish she’d made in the back of the cab. “But that wasn’t…” She cleared her throat, not wanting to reveal the silly thing she’d done. “I mean, I didn’t make a wish to see you again .”

“I did.” Then, with a wink, Ian crossed the threshold, shutting the door behind him .

Goosebumps sprouted on her arms, and she stood rooted, rubbing her arms for several long seconds after he’d left. Had he really wished to see her again ?

No, he couldn’t have. She’d probably misunderstood him. That’s all .

She wandered around then, admiring the decorations for a few moments. They really did look better than she’d ever remembered and they weren’t even halfway done .

But something felt off. Something was missing. Something that she hadn’t found in any of the boxes that they’d been through that day .

Which was silly, because she’d found absolutely everything. Her eyes searched the ornaments, trying to determine what was off .

Or was she the one missing something ?

It was Ian .

The house felt oddly emptier without him in it. Cold. Too large. Had it always been this quiet? How long had Jane been rattling around inside, not knowing ?