by Jill Shalvis
“Bless your heart,” Tara said. “But no one likes fruitcake. I’ll fix you up with just the thing. You’d best be sure, Logan Perrish. If you screw this up…”
“I won’t.” And God, how he hoped that was true.
It was twelve thirty a.m. before Sandy let herself into her house. Her place was high above the town on the bluffs. It was a tiny little thing, but she loved it because it was all hers.
Inside, she turned on the lights to her Christmas tree but nothing else. For a long moment, she just looked at the cute little tree, flickering for all it was worth. She very carefully avoided peeking beneath it, where there were no presents. Her family was all back East, but she couldn’t afford to go this year. Her parents had sent her a check, but she hadn’t bought herself anything yet. Now she wished she had. When her phone rang, she jumped, startled. It was Logan.
“Merry Christmas,” he said.
She melted at the sound of his voice, even as her heart panged hard. She imagined he was already back in San Francisco, maybe celebrating with friends and family. “Same to you. How’s your Christmas so far?”
“To be determined. There’s a present at your door.”
“No,” she said. “I just came in…” Biting her lip, she whirled to the door and pulled it open.
Logan stood there with a smile brighter than her Christmas tree, one hand braced above him, the other holding his cell to his ear. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said breathlessly. Because she was a chronic idiot, she just stared at him. He shoved his cell phone into his pocket, and she walked into his arms. He wrapped them around her and kicked the door closed behind them as he eyed her tree. “It’s missing something.”
“It is not,” she said, insulted.
He set her loose and pulled a brightly wrapped present from his pocket and set it beneath the tree.
Her heart stopped. How had he known? She stared at the present, then dropped to her knees in front of it. “I bought myself a new hair straightener the other day. I almost wrapped it and stuck it beneath the tree just to have a present to unwrap on Christmas. This is much better.”
“Babe.” His voice was low, husky, and full of far too much understanding.
Her heart took a direct hit, and she busied herself with fixing an already perfectly placed decoration.
“Sandy, look at me.”
No. If she did, her mouth might run away with her good sense and ask how long he was sticking this time. Another week?
Less?
If she asked, he might feel the need to be honest, to remind her that come next season, he still had an entire world counting on him, a world that was far from here. It was also a world that she secretly yearned to see and experience—but how could she ask that of him? She knew she could have gone and seen him these past few months. She should have, but the truth was she wanted to go as his one woman, not as one of his women. And worse, if she looked at him, he’d see all of that along with her entire heart. That would be the biggest mistake of all.
Logan crouched before the woman he knew he’d never get enough of. She had her head bowed away from him, and she was breaking his heart. He reached for the box and handed it to her.
She pulled on the ribbon and gently tore away the paper, then sucked in a breath at the robin’s-egg-blue Tiffany box. “Logan,” she breathed.
“Open it.”
She pulled off the lid and gasped, then lifted the diamond pendant necklace from the box. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and her eyes filled.
“Hey,” he said softly. “Hey, it’s supposed to make you happy.”
She flashed a brilliant smile, if not a little soggy. “I am,” she assured him. “It’s just the most wonderful gift anyone’s ever given me.” She saw the card on the bottom of the box and reached for it.
For Sandy,
The only woman I want to be with for Christmas.
Love, Logan
He took the necklace from her and placed it around her neck. She fisted her hand around the pendant and held it to her heart. “I love it, Logan. Thank you.”
“Looks good on you.” He looked at her for a moment, hoping she was starting to understand how serious he was. Cupping her face, he stared into her eyes, slowly leaned in, and caressed her mouth with his in a gentle kiss. “I have another present for you. I’ve had this one for a while.”
“No,” she said. “You’ve given me too much. It’s my turn to give you your present,” she whispered against his lips. “It’s wrapped and everything.” She took his hand in hers and brought it to the bow at her hip, the one that appeared to hold her wraparound dress together.
“Mmm,” he said, pulse leaping. “My favorite kind of present.” The bow came loose, and her dress fell away, revealing a black silk bra and thong, and the soft, curvy body he’d been dreaming about every night for six months. “Exactly what I wanted,” he whispered, and pulled her down to the rug.
Sprawled out over her, he felt his heart roll over, and his smile slowly faded. “Sandy, about the other present. I—”
“Later,” she murmured. “Much later.” And she pulled his head down to hers.
Chapter 6
Logan’s mouth ravaging hers again after all this time sent a thrill through Sandy. She’d accepted that she loved him, that this was what he had to give her, and for tonight, it was enough. It would have to be. So she dug her fingers into his shoulders and arched up into him.
She was rewarded when his mouth continued its quest to own hers, his tongue stroking in tune to his hands on her body, which felt like a tightly strung instrument, playing just for him.
Only for him.
“Tell me what you want, Sandy.”
She was pretty sure he didn’t want the answer to that, because the answer was everything. She wanted everything from him. “Well… you’re overdressed,” she managed to say, and tugged at his shirt.
He reared up and stripped out of his clothes, leaving nothing but muscle and sinew and testosterone wrapped up in sleek, smooth skin. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
He didn’t come back over her. Instead, he kneeled between her thighs and slowly slid her bra straps off her shoulders. “Tell me, Sandy…”
“I want you to keep going.”
He smiled, then reached beneath her with one hand and unhooked the clasp of her bra. “I am going to keep going.” He tossed the scrap of lace over his shoulder and then set his attention to her panties.
He removed those with his teeth.
She was panting by the time he crawled back up her body, touching every inch, following each of those touches by nips and kisses and licks of his tongue. She was panting, begging, and beyond desperate as he finally settled his weight over her.
With a moan, she arched her back, lifting herself to him. He smiled as if she’d given him the best Christmas present of his life, then went back to stoking her inner fire, caressing her until the flames consumed her, making her breath catch with each new touch. She wanted more, she wanted him, all of him, but hell if she’d beg.
For anything.
Then he stopped.
“What?” she gasped. There’d better be a fire…
“Just wanted to look at you.”
Oh, she thought, melting. Oh, damn. It had taken her five months to get over him, she still wasn’t over him, and now she wasn’t sure she wanted to be.
He leaned over her, his eyes telling her he could read her thoughts. “Trust me,” he said, his lips so close that they brushed hers as he spoke. “Trust me with you.”
She opened her mouth to tell him that she did, in spite of herself, she really did trust him, but he’d produced a condom and slid home and what came out was an erotic, sensual cry.
His attention was on her body, his gaze heating every inch of her skin as he trailed his fingers in a line from her breasts to her legs, which he wrapped around his hips. He slid in deep, and with a rough groan, dropped to his elbows so that he covered her completely. She wrapped her a
rms around his neck, and then his lips were on hers as he began to move.
She lost herself in the delicious, overwhelming sensations, unable to think or even remember the reasons she’d hesitated to let him love her again like this. His arms slid beneath her, pulling her even closer to him, plunging deep, then deeper still, until she burst. He went over the edge with her, pulsing inside her until they collapsed together, spent.
Afterward, he carried her to her bed and started over…
Much later, she snuggled in against him and everything was forgotten as she fell asleep. She awoke to the sun poking her in the eyes and panicked. It was eight o’clock on Christmas morning! She was supposed to be at the diner for the breakfast buffet. Everyone in town was coming and she was in charge. She tried to jump out of bed but found she couldn’t.
Because a very warm, tousled, leanly muscled man had her wrapped up tight in his arms. “Got to go!” she said, and kissed him on the jaw before shimmying loose.
He rolled over to catch her, but she was too fast, making quick work of pulling on jeans and a sweater. “I’m late!”
“It’s Christmas,” he said in a rough morning voice, and sexy as hell.
“Exactly!” She shoved her feet into boots, grabbed her purse, and headed for the door, but something bright nearly blinded her.
Her necklace.
She looked down at it, then at the naked man sprawled in her bed. “Thanks for last night.”
“And this morning?” he asked in that husky male morning voice that made her tremble.
They’d dozed and woken each other up somewhere around three a.m. to tear up her sheets again. Her thighs rubbed together, and she felt the slight sting of the whisker burn there. Her face heated. “That too.”
“I wanted to talk to you last night,” he said, rolling off the bed and coming toward her, completely unconcerned about his nudity.
And if she were him and looked that good, she’d be unconcerned too. “It’s okay,” she said, and patted his chest. “I understand now. We’re… explosive. I couldn’t resist you, and vice versa. No regrets, Logan.” And with a soft kiss, she left him alone.
And if maybe she shed a tear or two in the car on the way to the diner, well, no one had to know but her.
She arrived just in time. She jumped behind the counter to help the owner, Jan, and her waitress, Amy, serve the crowd. And it was a big crowd. Everyone was inhaling stacks of pancakes and eggs, and bacon and sausage, when suddenly the low level of mayhem ceased altogether as the diner door opened.
Sandy looked up just as Logan strode in.
The squeals of delight were genuine and real. The residents of Lucky Harbor had fallen in love with Logan on his first visit, all those months ago. Logan smiled but moved through the crowd, heading straight for Sandy. “Hope you don’t mind if I steal Sandy away for a second,” he said.
Sandy told herself to be brave, but she wasn’t feeling brave. She stood there in a bright red apron, a serving spoon in one hand and a coffee carafe in the other, and shook her head. “I can’t,” she said. “I’m busy.”
Logan looked at her for a long beat. He took the spoon from her hand and set it down, then did the same with the coffee. He cupped her face. “I’ve been trying to tell you something. But I’ll do it right here if I have to.”
Oh, God. He was going to end things now. She wasn’t ready. Maybe tomorrow she’d be ready. “No, that’s not necessary—”
“I know you thought this was just a fling. Hell, I thought this was just a fling. I wanted it to be. I wasn’t looking for this, and I sure as hell never wanted you to get hurt.”
Someone in the crowd “ahhed” at that.
Logan ignored it. “But there’s something about you, Sandy. Something that I just can’t get enough of. That was proven when I left here and thought of nothing but you.”
“You raced every weekend,” she murmured, trying not to think about their audience. “You were too busy to think of me.”
“Believe me, I had room to think of you no matter what I was doing. Just don’t tell my team. That sort of thing is frowned upon since it tends to get people killed.” He flashed a grin. “I would fly you out every weekend to ensure my safety, if you’d let me.”
Her heart felt instantly lightened, and now butterflies were bouncing off the walls of her stomach. The good kind of butterflies. “Oh my God.”
“Tell him you love him back!” someone yelled.
“Hurry, before he changes his mind!” someone else called out.
“How about hurry, my eggs are getting cold?” a third party griped.
Logan never took his eyes off Sandy. “I don’t want anyone’s eggs to get cold. Let’s speed this up.” He handed her the basket. “They’re peach muffins. Because apparently no one likes fruitcake.”
“What?”
He sighed and pulled out the muffins. Beneath, nestled in the bottom of the basket, was another Tiffany box, this one smaller than the first.
A ring box.
Her mouth fell open, and she slowly reached into the basket. Her fingers were shaking so badly that Logan took over and opened the box, revealing the diamond ring he’d picked out for her.
“There is no other woman for me,” he said. “You’re it, Sandy Jansen. You’re warm and sweet and kind and funny, and you make me feel like I’m more than just a good driver. You make me feel… everything.” He removed the ring from the box and slipped it on her finger. “I love you,” he told her. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything. I want you to marry me, even though you drive like a crazy person.”
There was a collective “ohmigod” around them, but Sandy paid them no mind. She stared at the ring, then up into his face, clearly stunned. “You do? Really?”
He was going to work on that, on making sure she never doubted or wondered how he felt. Ever. “I do.” He loved the dreamy look in her eyes, but she hadn’t said anything, and he was starting to feel a little bit like he was out in public without a stitch of clothing. He slid a look at their avid audience, then leaned in closer. “This is the part where maybe you could say you want me, too. I’ve kinda got my ass hanging out here. Say yes, and I’ll throw in the BMW. You know you love that thing as much as you love me.”
“Hey.” A little kid tapped Logan on the arm. “You look a lot like Santa.”
Sandy choked out a laugh and covered her mouth.
Logan looked down at the kid. “Santa already came this year. Did you get what you wanted?”
“Yeah,” the kid said, waving a handheld game. “Did you?”
“I don’t know.” Logan looked at Sandy. “Did I?”
“Yes,” she breathed, and threw herself at him. “You got everything you ever wanted. Forever.”
“Does this mean you love me, too?”
“It means I love you. With or without the BMW.” She waited a beat, grinning up at him mischievously. “But with is better.”
Under the Mistletoe
Chapter 1
Holding on to her hat, Mia ran along the streets on her killer four-inch red heels, her matching red skirt ruffling in the breeze. Late. She was late.
It was the story of her life.
“Hey, Mrs. Claus!” a construction worker yelled. “I need some holiday spirit! Come on, mama, bring it over here!”
This was accompanied by the hoots and hollers of the guy’s coworkers.
Mia flipped them off and kept running in tune to their raucous laughter. She might not be New York born or bred, but she’d learned to fit in just fine.
“Wow, are you real?” a little kid asked in marvel a block later, taking in her costume. “Is Santa real?”
“Yes!” she told him, and kept running.
Except if there’d really been a Santa Claus, she’d have happily crawled onto his lap and whispered her greatest wish—to be picked. For her softball team, for her internship, for a relationship, it didn’t matter. Getting picked meant everything to her, but somehow, she always ende
d up doing the picking.
Finally, she skidded into the restaurant and stopped to catch her breath, smoothing down her Mrs. Claus outfit. She had a change of clothes in her bag; she just needed to get to the ladies’ room. Whirling to do just that, she plowed right into a warm, hard body.
Nick.
Her first reaction was embarrassment at her costume. Granted, she’d just made two hundred bucks serving drinks at a corporate Christmas party, but she’d hoped to get into her cute little black dress before Nick caught sight of her.
And then there was her second reaction, which was wow, because he looked heart-stoppingly great tonight.
“You’re thinking so hard your hair’s smoking,” he said, his voice low and sexy. Teasing.
Mia reached out to touch her hair, but Nick caught her hand in his and smiled. “Like the look,” he said. “Is it for me?”
“No!” But she smiled back at him because it was impossible not to react to Nick. “I have my date night LBD in my bag. That’s for you.”
He took her hands and spread them out at her sides, studying the skimpy Mrs. Claus costume. “Mmm, I’m happy to settle for this.” His sun-kissed hair was the same color as the aged whiskey in the bottle on the bar behind him, and matched his eyes as well. He’d come right from work. His tie was loosened, his shirt sleeves shoved up past his deliciously corded forearms. His yummy build came from daily runs and long summers working as a manual laborer for tuition money.
But it wasn’t his looks that stopped Mia’s heart.
“Love that smile,” he murmured.
That. It was that way he had of making her feel like the prettiest woman in the world. She had it bad for him, and knew it.
The hostess seated them before she could change. Each table held a flickering candle and a sprig of mistletoe. Nick picked the mistletoe up, held it over Mia’s head, and then leaned in for a kiss. He squeezed her hand, his callused thumb slowly gliding over her palm. She’d never considered her palm a particularly sensual spot before, but his touch altered her breathing and made her shiver.