White-Hot Christmas

by Serenity Woods

  Jake sighed and stood up. “I think I’ll go in—I’m getting a headache.” He walked off.

  Laughing, Neon replaced his glasses and lay back on the lounger. “Sit down for God’s sake, you’re casting a shadow over me.”

  Sighing, she sat on the chair beside him. “So why are you here?”

  He tilted his head toward her. “I came to see you.”

  “Oh.”

  He reached out a hand and picked up hers where it rested on the arm of the chair. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

  Her lips curled slowly. “Me neither.”

  He linked his fingers with hers. “Look, do you mind if I speak plainly?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Cards on the table and all that. I know on the beach you were looking for some fun—nothing serious. And Christmas Eve, well, don’t quite know what happened there. Hormones took over, I guess. But we’re both quite clear on the fact you’re only here for another week and then you’re flying out. You live in England, I live in New Zealand, and there’ll be, like, a gazillion miles of land and sea between us. Right?”

  “Right.” She looked at their hands.

  “After saying that, you’re fun and I enjoy your company. And I’ve got four days off now. So I wondered… Do you want to spend some time together?”

  Neon watched his idea settle over her like a soft, silky sheet. She blinked a few times and studied their hands again. He rubbed his thumb along her knuckles, not missing her shiver of response. She was debating whether it was wise for them to spend time together. He knew, because he’d been thinking the same thing for the past two days.

  Bar going out with other women, he’d done everything he could to put her out of his mind. He’d had a couple of offers at the party of a friend he went to on Boxing Day, but somehow every time he thought about hooking up with another woman, Merle popped into his head. When he remembered the way she’d practically dragged him into the bathroom at his aunt’s house, he knew he didn’t want anyone else, not while she was available.

  Anyway, there wasn’t any risk involved in spending time with her. There was no chance she’d misunderstand and think he was interested in something more than a few days of fun. That was all she’d wanted, anyway, when she kissed him on the beach.

  Her eyes were cautious, however, and for a brief moment, he thought she was going to turn him down. Why? Had she met someone else? Perhaps she’d enjoyed the excitement of their encounters so much she’d decided to give one of Jake’s friends a try. The thought made his stomach knot, although he had no claim on her.

  Then, however, her lips began to curl and he felt a flood of relief.

  “Four days?” she asked.

  “Four whole days.” He studied her, wondering why the thought of another man dragging her off to the bathroom to have sex made him so angry he could punch a hole in the wall. “You haven’t made any other…assignations?”

  “Assignations?” Her eyes danced. “Well, I did have a soiree yesterday and I’m due to visit the king’s court tomorrow…”

  He lifted his glasses again and glared at her. “You know what I meant.”

  She laughed. “No, I haven’t had any other dates. Why?” Her eyes gleamed. “Are you jealous, Carter?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Of course not,” she echoed. Standing, she leaned over him, hands on the arms of his chair. She obviously wasn’t aware her white camisole had gaped away and he had a wonderful view of her breasts. He glanced at them, then looked up and saw her smiling and realised she knew perfectly well he could see down her top. Hmm, who was manipulating whom here?

  She looked pointedly at his shorts and he followed her gaze, realising his growing ardour was perfectly visible through the thin fabric. He looked back up at her. “Is this the sort of thing I can expect over the next few days? You teasing me to insanity?”

  “Absolutely. Is that a complaint?”

  “No.” He reached a hand behind her head and pulled her down for a kiss. Her lips were cool, and she opened her mouth and brushed his tongue with hers softly.

  He sighed and released her, and she sat back on the chair, smiling. He must be mad. It was going to be torture being around her all the time. He couldn’t spend twenty-four hours a day in bed with her. Could he? He shook his head. “Okay, what would you like to do? I’m at your disposal.”

  “Well, I haven’t seen much of the area—Bree and Jake took me to the Stone Store, Te Waimate and Rainbow Falls but that’s about it.”

  “Where do you fancy today?”

  She thought about it. “I’d like to see some tropical plants. I like plants.”

  “Garden centre?” He grinned. “Only kidding. I’ll take you to the Puketi Forest. That’ll blow your mind if you like trees.” Finishing off his Coke, he got to his feet and went inside and asked Bree for some insect repellent. She handed it to him, grinning, and he realised she’d heard every word they’d been saying outside.

  “You shouldn’t eavesdrop.” He took the bottle, glaring at her.

  “It’s the only way I find out anything around here.” She poked her tongue out at him, then winked.

  Merle waited for him to come back out, her brain arguing with her heart as to whether spending more time with him was a good idea. Her heart won. It might not be sensible, but who was sensible on holiday? Besides, she wasn’t in love with him—she was in lust with him. And that wasn’t a problem. She had to remember to make sure she didn’t let the one turn into the other.

  When he reappeared, he crouched in front of her, a bottle in his hand. He lifted her long skirt to her knee and put her foot in his lap. Spraying his hands a couple of times, he rubbed the liquid along her shins and around her feet. “Don’t want you to get bitten.” He ran his warm palms down her calves. “Those sandflies are bastards.”

  “Thanks.” Her cheeks grew warm, but he didn’t notice, too busy paying attention to her legs. After that, he sprayed his hands again and ran them up her arms and neck, stroking her hands and paying particular attention to her elbows. It was an oddly intimate and strangely non-sexual gesture—until he reached her chest. He ran a finger across her breastbone and dipped it into her cleavage. “Don’t want them biting there.”

  She smacked his hand away and he laughed. “Come on. Let’s get going.”

  “I’ll get my bag.” She went into the house, picked it up and walked back out. On the way, she passed Bree in the kitchen, who smiled as their eyes met. “Don’t say anything.” Merle pointed a finger at her sister.

  Bree laughed. “Have a great time. And behave!”

  “Wouldn’t be any fun if we did,” said Neon from behind them, bringing in his empty Coke bottle and giving Bree a grin. “Come on, tiger.” He grabbed Merle’s hand. “We’ve got exploring to do.”

  Chapter Nine

  Merle slid into the passenger seat of his car, smiling as she glanced around, thinking how much a car could tell you about its driver. Neon’s was surprisingly neat inside, with no empty food packets or beer cans like she’d seen in other men’s cars, but the floor was covered with a layer of sand.

  He got in beside her and started the engine, reversing out of the drive and then heading for the town centre. He smiled at her, and she was conscious of how intimate it was, sitting in a car with a guy. His right leg rested inches from hers, deeply tanned, with dark brown, slightly curling hairs. Obviously he would have to do lots of regular exercise to keep fit for his job. The thought of him working out, getting hot and sweaty, made her heart beat faster.

  “Enjoying the view?”

  She looked up and grinned. “Jake told me about your training. It sounded pretty intense.”

  “It was. Fun though.”

  “You love your job,” she said, smiling.

  “I do.”

  “What’s it like being senior station officer?”

  “You’re not on the front line so much, which is a shame in a way because I liked that. But I get to go on some of t
he more serious calls.”

  “You’re still allowed to play with your hose?”

  He laughed out loud. “Whenever I can.”

  She smiled. “Bree said you were on line to make chief fire officer by the time you’re thirty.”

  “Did she now?”

  “How old are you?”

  “Forty-two.”

  “Neon…”

  “Twenty-seven, twenty-eight on Thursday.”

  She stared in surprise. “It’s your birthday this week?”

  “Yes.” He winked at her. “I expect a present.”

  “I’m sure I can find something to give you.”

  Laughing again, he reached out and held her hand. “You do make me laugh, you’re good for me. Come on, tell me about yourself. I know you lecture in history. What period?”

  She settled back in her seat. “I’ve taught right from prehistoric through to Renaissance but I specialise in Early Medieval, what they sometimes call the Dark Ages.”

  “King Arthur?”

  She grinned. “That sort of period, yes, only usually based more in fact.”

  “Sutton Hoo? The Venerable Bede? Jorvik?”

  She raised her eyebrows. “Yes, very much so.”

  “Don’t look so shocked—my father’s a history teacher, remember? I happen to like history.”

  She smiled and looked away, studying the view, seeing the landscape changing from townhouses to larger houses, surrounded by paddocks with cows and horses. He liked history. She couldn’t believe it. Did Fate have it in for her? Why was she being tortured like this?

  He took the main state highway north. “Do you live with your mum?”

  She kept her gaze on the fields, aware she had tensed. “I do now. I moved back in when Mum fell ill and needed looking after.”

  “What was wrong with her?”

  “Breast cancer. She didn’t cope well. I mean who does, I suppose, but she was particularly bad. Dad died two years ago, you see, and it hit her hard. She suffers from depression and she really struggled.” Just talking about it was difficult.

  “But she’s all clear now?”

  Merle frowned. “The doctors say she is. But I’m not so sure. She keeps talking about the cancer and how she can feel it inside her. I don’t know if it’s artistic licence or something more sinister. I keep telling myself it’s just fear talking, but…I don’t know.” She sighed. “I never realised before, how terrible cancer was. I mean of course I know it’s a horrific disease, but I didn’t realise what effect it had on your character, how it could change you as a person. It’s like mistletoe, you know, the way it grows inside trees, and sometimes kills them off. It’s insidious, and it’s almost like it’s possessed her. I’m sure it’s still there. When she talks, I can hear it talking through her mouth. It scares the crap out of me.”

  Neon gave her a sympathetic smile and squeezed her hand. “And she took it bad when Bree left?”

  She glanced over at him. He studied her briefly before returning his gaze to the road. Bree must have spoken to him about it, or maybe Jake had told him. “You could say that.”

  “That must make it difficult for you.”

  She sighed again, heavily. “It’s a long and rather dull argument. Bree thinks Mum’s trying to control me, to make me feel guilty. I know Mum can be manipulative—she used to be a control freak even before she got sick. But I can’t accept that’s all that’s behind her demands. She’s really scared. And I can’t just abandon her.” She studied her fingernails. She’d said too much—she didn’t want to talk about this. This wasn’t why she’d agreed to go out with him. She wanted fun and escapism—she didn’t want to think about why she had to go back and how difficult and constrictive her future would be.

  The road turned to metal and the paddocks opened up to fields, wide and spacious, not a hedgerow in sight. No medieval strip farming here. He cleared his throat and started asking her what music and films she liked, and she felt a sweep of relief he’d picked up she didn’t want to talk about her mother.

  They established they both liked The Beatles, both disliked country and western, and he preferred blues while she preferred jazz. She discovered he loved Gladiator and Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (which she adored) and Kingdom of Heaven (which she could take or leave), and that he had a secret collection of the Star Wars movies, which he admitted to reluctantly but was pleased when she said her favourite was The Empire Strikes Back. They found they both adored House and The West Wing, and spent a pleasant five minutes arguing about their favourite episodes.

  “Actually,” he said, “I think we should forget about going out and spend four days in bed, watching The West Wing and eating ice cream.”

  She sighed. “That sounds like absolute heaven.”

  He glanced across at her. “How about we make it a date for my birthday? The whole day in bed, watching The West Wing? I can’t think of a nicer way to spend it.”

  She stared at him in surprise. “But you’ll want to see your family and friends, surely.”

  He shrugged. “I can see them any day of the year. You’ve got a use-by date.”

  She smiled, warmth spreading through her at the thought that he wanted to spend his special day with her alone. “Okay. But only if it’s chocolate ice cream.”

  “Chocolate fudge brownie.”

  “With chocolate sauce.”

  “And marshmallows.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, that’s just plain dirty.”

  Laughing, he slowed the car as it came up to a T-junction, the forest rearing in front of them in a sheet of green. He turned right, the car wheels scrunching on the gravel, and drove a short distance to the parking area, empty of cars in typical New Zealand style, and parked right in the middle. They got out and he locked the car then took her hand, leading her across to the beginning of the walkway.

  “Wow.” She admired the beautifully crafted wooden pathway that wound into the forest. “This is amazing.”

  “I know. The kauri trees are huge. They were used as masts for early ships—Captain Cook refitted with a kauri mast. The early settlers traded the kauri gum abroad. It was used in settings for false teeth.” He grinned at her. “I’m full of useless facts.”

  She laughed. He kept hold of her hand, his fingers warm, as they walked, pointing out the occasional bird to each other, admiring the huge ferns. It was like being in the jungle, such a completely different world. The pathway meandered deep into the forest. Mosquitoes brushed their limbs, although they didn’t bite, thanks to the repellent.

  Arching palms and huge kauri trees towered over their heads, fantails flitting between the ferns. The curled fronds reminded her of his tattoo. She brushed it as they walked along the wooden walkway, her fingers tracing the curling black lines, and he looked at her, smiling. A spark jumped between them, quick as a camera flash, sharp as a bee sting, and her heartbeat quickened. She had him all to herself for four days, and she still couldn’t keep her hands off him.

  She paused and leaned on the wooden rail, pretending to read a plaque, although her concentration was entirely centred on him. He left her side and crossed the walkway to read a display, coming to stand behind her, leaning a hand either side of her on the rail, his chest warm against her back.

  Her heart thudded. It was so humid in the forest she could feel a trail of sweat between her breasts and down her back. His arms were a deep brown next to her pale skin, the muscles toned like carved and polished wood, the tattoo curling up like a fern wrapping around him. He oozed health and vitality and strength, making her realise how it must have been in prehistoric times when women looked for a man who could keep them safe, protect them and hunt for them. She could imagine him as a caveman, dragging her through the forest by her hair. Not that he was a Neanderthal—far from it. She knew she had underestimated him on first impression.

  He leaned forward, looking at one of the plaques, and his chest and hips pressed against her. Her lips started to curve. “Is all the talk of
logging and tree trunks turning you on?”

  “I think it’s the thought of getting wood, actually.” He chuckled, his lips brushing her ear, turning her giggles to sighs as he sucked the lobe into his mouth and nibbled it.

  He slid his left arm across her body, pulling her tight against him, his fingers finding her breast, stroking her nipple, while with his right hand he began to raise her long skirt, a handful at a time.

  Her eyes widened. “Here? In public?”

  “We’ll have to avoid all the crowds.” He glanced around and she followed his gaze, seeing only black tuis with the white bobble at their throats, and the beautiful turquoise-and-cream of a kingfisher flash in the undergrowth.

  She rolled her eyes. “I know there’s nobody here now, but what if somebody turns up?”

  “Well, you keep watch while I have a quickie.”

  She started laughing, then caught her breath as his warm hand finally found her thigh, brushing up it and around to cup her bare bottom.

  “No underwear again? You are a wicked girl.”

  “Wicked’s my middle name.” She sighed as he pressed his hips against her. He was hard as a rock against her butt.

  He moved his hand around her hips to her stomach, threading his fingers through her pubic hair, into the hot, wet centre of her. He gave a sexy laugh against her ear. “Oh my. It looks like I’m not the only one turned on today.” He slid two fingers deep inside her, making her inhale sharply, then moved them up, coated and slick, to rub against her.

  She sighed out loud, leaning back against him as he stroked her, his touch gentle but insistent, his breath hot on her ear as he whispered to her all the things he wanted to do to her, making her blush, his hand growing wet with her arousal.

  He groaned and for a brief moment pulled away. She heard the rustle of paper, and then seconds later felt his warmth at her back again, his arms sliding around her, enveloping her.

  “You came prepared,” she said between gasps of breath.

  “Always, when you’re around.” He pushed her legs apart and she lifted her hips, letting him slide into her in one smooth movement. Then he pulled her back into his arms, his left tight across her, playing with her nipple, his right hand delving back into her moist warmth, even as he started moving inside her.