“D oes it look even from down there?” Ian asked in his near-perfect neutral American accent. With only one day before her annual Christmas party, Jane had suggested—okay, commanded might be more accurate—that he spend the day in character. Tomorrow’s event would be his trial run, after all. The occasion where he proved he was ready for the big date .

After her party, there were only eight days until Christmas. Seven days until Christmas Eve. Three weeks of priming and primping had passed and Ian was ready .

So was Jane’s house. As soon as the nutcracker garland was up and in place, anyway .

“I think the end needs to be pulled up just a smidge,” Jane said from where she stood solidly on the sidewalk in front of her brownstone. Though she was bundled up in a warm coat and gloves, she shivered. It was cold out. A storm had rolled in the night before and fresh snow coated the small patch of grass in front of her unit. Ian had cleared the sidewalks before starting in on the final outdoor trimmings while she’d been warm inside by the fire. She’d only come out recently to provide visual assistance .

If she were cold down here, she thought, Ian must be freezing. She’d make him a cup of hot cocoa afterward. With a peppermint stick and whipped cream. Maybe he’d hang around long enough to try a bite of the poppy seed bread that was currently cooling on her kitchen counter .

She hoped he’d hang around. Even if he didn’t want to partake of any of her baked goods .

She peered up at him. He was standing on the highest rung of her six-foot ladder that was braced on the tiny platform at the top of her stoop. She shivered again, this time from the thought of the dizzying height. Or just from the dizzy feeling she got sometimes when she looked at the man who’d become a steady fixture in her life. It was quite possible, she realized suddenly, that she might miss him after this gig was up on Christmas Eve .

For the first time in her life, Jane Osborne had a reason to not look forward to Christmas .

“How about now ?”

Shaking herself from her thoughts, she looked up again to inspect the new position of the garland and grinned. “It’s perfect .”

“Fantastic.” Ian climbed down, and Jane pretended not to notice how good his backside looked while he did .

When he reached the bottom, he bounded down the stairs and joined her at the bottom of the stoop. He stared up with her to assess the finished product. “Not bad,” he said. “Not bad at all .”

“I think it’s amazing. The best my place has looked in years.” She wasn’t being the least bit kind with that statement. It was positively accurate. “Thank you .”

“My pleasure.” He winked, and that, along with his nearness, sent a tickle down the length of her spine .

Thank goodness her face was already red from the weather. That way he couldn’t notice her blush. “Now that’s up, we’re done,” she said, her voice higher pitched than usual .

Ian shook his head. “We’re not done .”

She cocked her head and looked at him with a questioning frown. “What am I forgetting? Except for some last-minute baking, there’s nothing else I can think of.” She ran quickly through the list in her head. “The house looks splendid. The tree is trimmed. The caterers will be here in the morning. You have your suit. I picked up my dress from the tailor yesterday. What’s left ?”

“What’s left ?” he echoed with incredulity. “Why only the most important part. The Christmas angel .”

“Ah. But I have a star on top of my tree instead.” And he should have known that because he’d been the one to place it there in the first place .

“I’m not talking about the tree. I’m talking about in the snow .”

“A snow angel?” She stifled a laugh. “You can’t be serious .”

“Dead serious.” His expression mirrored his words. “You mean you don’t make snow angels ?”

“Uh, no. I do not.” She hadn’t made a figure in the snow since she was a kid, and she wasn’t quite sure she’d made them then either. Except for that fall she took three years ago on New Year’s Day, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d even had more than a passing encounter with the white stuff .

Ian rolled his head in exaggerated disbelief. “No wonder you don’t believe in Christmas wishes. How can you expect to have magic happen if you don’t put in a little work ?”

Jane hugged herself and scowled. “I fail to see how laying down on the cold dirty ground can get me anything but a frozen behind .”

“Laying down in —?” Ian cut off, apparently too exasperated to repeat Jane’s sentiments. “There is no way I’m hearing this. Obviously, you don’t understand the most fundamental part of the season .”

“Getting wet ?”

“Having fun .”

He stunned her with his quick answer. Stunned her even more when he dropped onto the small patch of land next to her sidewalk, stretched his arms out, and waved them up and down in the snow .

“I can’t believe you’re doing this.” She glanced around to see if anyone was looking, smiling awkwardly when she spotted Mr. Jacobson staring as he passed in front of her house with his dog .

“Why? Because it’s spontaneous? Because it’s unexpected? Because it’s totally a blast?” Ian had let his accent slip back into its natural Southie dialect, which somehow made his playfulness seem more gregarious .

“Because it’s totally insane!” And childish. And something she’d never do in a million years. Neither would any man she’d ever date for real .

But that thought made her feel sad .

She didn’t want to feel sad .

She studied him, this grown man rolling around in the snow, and found her lips curling up in a smile. She’d never admit it, but there was something fun about Ian making a fool of himself .

After a moment, she realized something. “You know; you’re doing it wrong .”

“No, I’m not,” Ian scoffed. “What do you even mean? You can’t do angels wrong .”

She rolled her eyes. “Moving your arms only makes the wings. You need to move your legs to make the gown .”

“Oh, really? Get down here and show me, if you’re such an expert.” He sat up and stretched his hand out toward her, inviting her to join him .

“No way.” Still, she didn’t move away .

“Chicken,” he teased. He moved to his knees so he could grab her wrist and the touch of his bare hand on the patch of skin above her glove sent goosebumps up her arm. Goosebumps that she was entirely sure weren’t caused by the cold .

“Come on,” he coaxed again, tugging her gently. “You know you want to .”

“I most certainly don’t want to.” But she didn’t fight him when he pulled again, and so she shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was when she tumbled forward. With him. Into the snow .

“Ian!” she squealed. She hadn’t worn a hat and now she had snow in her hair and on her cheek and down the entire left side of her body. She opened her mouth to berate him for his behavior. But all that came out was laughter. Belly-aching laughter .

All-over-body-shaking laughter .

“See? It’s fun!” If he said more, she couldn’t make it out in the midst of his own laughter .

And, honestly, she didn’t really care what else he said, because, as her peals subsided, she became aware that she wasn’t just in the snow, but in his arms. His strong arms. And her body was no longer trembling from laughter but from the intensity of his gaze pinned on her .

And she wished with all her might that he would kiss her. Not a practicing-for-the-date ask-permission kind of kiss, but a real, honest-to-God, I’m-into-you kiss .

Then Jane remembered that she believed that people had to make their own wishes come true. So she tilted up her chin and pressed her lips to his .

And just like last time, she forgot herself entirely .

Ian’s lips molded to hers like icing on a gingerbread house. When his tongue slid against hers, it was all she could do not to gasp at the sweet dance they’d begun. He nipped her lower lip with his teeth and she rolled him over on top of her, wanting more, wanting his weight and warmth on her .

He obliged .

They kept kissing, rolling around in the snow until they were soaked. Until they were so hot for each other that they’d forgotten to be cold. Until Mr. Jacobson huffed with judgment when he passed again with his dog .

At which point, Ian pulled away and made the most wonderful suggestion. “Why don’t we head inside ?”

They barely had the door closed before their mouths found each other again. They wriggled out of their coats and boots as best they could between kisses. When Jane’s hands were free of her gloves, she brought them up and over Ian’s broad shoulders. Then she tugged him closer .

Ian slid his own hands around her waist and down over her ass. “You’re sopping wet,” he said, stating the obvious .

But the snow wasn’t what she was referring to when she said, “You have no idea .”

His eyes sparked, and—unlike when they’d spoken innuendo on the phone— she was sure he caught her meaning. His hand toyed with the bottom of her sweater. “You should probably get out of those clothes .”

Her breath fell out of its rhythm. “Your clothes are just as wet as mine .”

“I guess they’ll have to come off as well.” There he was again with that wink—that toe-curling, knee-buckling, heart-stopping wink .

It was Jane who made the next suggestion. “Maybe we should take this upstairs .”

He leaned back to look her in the eyes. “Jane?” he said, and she was pretty certain what he meant was are you sure ?

“I’m sure,” she said. Because she was. Then it occurred to her that, perhaps, he wasn’t . “Do you want to ?”

“I do. On one condition .”

“What is it ?”

“I’m off the clock .”

Her stomach fluttered. “I can completely accept that condition.” It was so much easier to lead him up the staircase knowing that the paycheck she’d given him wasn’t a factor in whatever happened next .

And she was looking forward to “next” as much as she’d ever looked forward to a visit from Santa Claus .

In her bedroom, they resumed their kissing with renewed passion. Jane barely had time to worry if she’d left anything personal lying around or whether she’d worn nice underwear before Ian had her stripped to nothing at all .

Gently, he pushed her down onto the bed, and stood back to gaze on her. She felt strangely comfortable in front of him, but was unable to meet his eyes. Instead she focused her attention on the dresser just behind him where he’d thrown her panties .

Oh, good. They were a nice pair, she thought .

But then Ian pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, and to hell with being awkward because there was no way Jane wasn’t staring at that flat washboard of a stomach in front of her. Seriously, what did the man do to be that ripped? She was pretty sure she hadn’t seen abs like that since she dated that guy on the Olympic swim team her junior year of college .

Back then, she hadn’t had a clue what she was doing. Neither had the swimmer, for that matter. She hoped a six-pack didn’t come at the expense of knowing how to treat a woman in bed .

Well. She’d find out soon enough .

She continued to look on, riveted as Ian next stripped off his jeans, leaving him with a completely discernable thick rod that bulged out from his boxer briefs .

“Red,” she said, remarking on the color of his underwear. “My favorite color of wrapping paper.” Fortunately, this wasn’t a gift she had to wait to tear into .

She got up on her knees and crawled over to him so she could help him remove the packaging from his package. “Jiminy Christmas,” she said when his cock popped out, stiff and long .

“It’s all yours .”

Thank god, because she wanted to lick that thing like it was a candy cane. Gripping him at the base with one hand, she leaned forward so she could wrap her lips around his crown before dragging her tongue down the length of him .

“Yes,” Ian hissed. “Just like that.” His lids shuttered as she took him all the way into her mouth, sucking him and teasing him until he was throbbing .

It wasn’t too long before he pulled away .

Jane batted her eyes up at him. “I was enjoying that, thank you very much .”

“So was I. Too much.” He kissed a trail up her neck. “Now, let me enjoy this .”

He pushed her back down on the bed and crawled over her. His lips never left her, gliding over her skin, down her neck, to her breasts then returning to her mouth before setting off on another journey of her body .

As he explored her with kisses, his hand found its way between her legs. His thumb brushed against her clit, too softly at first, and she was just about to correct him when he pressed harder .

She moaned .

Then, she moaned again when his fingers slipped lower. Slipped inside her. She didn’t know how to describe the sound she made when he rubbed against her sensitive wall and increased the pressure on her clit. What she did know was that this was one area where Ian needed absolutely no instruction .

In fact, she thought as she threw her head back in ecstasy, he could charge for this .

When she came down from her orgasm, Ian was settling between her thighs. His cock nudged against her, rubbing her tender nub in such a way she was already on her way toward another O .

Ian’s lips tickled at her ear. “Jane. I didn’t—. Do you have…something ?”

“Top drawer!” She’d exclaimed it maybe a little louder than she’d needed do, but she was worked up and desperate to have him inside her. She was also impressed that he’d been the one to mention a condom. She couldn’t remember the last time she wasn’t the one insisting that her partner suit up .

She’d praise him on that. Later .

Now, though, her mouth was busy suckling on Ian’s shoulder while he donned a raincoat. Then he was pushing at her entrance. Gliding in with one long stroke .

They groaned together in unison .

He felt big inside her. Big and wonderful as he rocked in and out. Did sex always feel this good? She couldn’t remember it ever feeling like this. Like, perfect. As though they were made to be wrapped around each other. If this were a test for compatibility, Ian would pass with flying colors .

If only they were this compatible in other areas of their lives .

She didn’t want to think about that. She wouldn’t think about it. She’d only think about him, above her, inside her .

She brought her knees up around his waist, allowing him to sink deeper. They moved together like that, in sync, until she came again .

Ian followed soon after, his whole body shuddering as he rode out his release. When he’d finished, he kissed her again, lazily now .

As her breath and heartbeat returned to normal, even as her hair was still damp from the snow she’d been half-buried in, Jane laughed a little to herself .

Apparently there were other ways to warm up besides hot chocolate .