The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1)

by Serenity Woods

  “I know what you mean.” Brock sat opposite her. “I’m half-expecting the chef to come out in a sleigh pulled by reindeer halfway through dinner.”

  “I’m sure he’s far too busy sorting out the menu to do that,” she said, accepting it from the waiter.

  “As long as he’s checked it twice,” Brock said.

  Erin bit her lip until the waiter had withdrawn and then let the giggle loose. “Sorry,” she said at Brock’s amused look. “I had one of those small bottles of wine from the mini bar and it’s gone straight to my head.”

  “Excellent,” he said, looking pleased. “I plan to get you completely drunk tonight.” His eyes widened at her laughter. “Because it’s your birthday,” he clarified, “not because… Oh I give up.”

  Chuckling away, thoroughly enjoying herself, she studied the menu, her jaw dropping at the sight of all the wonderful dishes. “I could eat everything on this list.”

  “You’re very welcome to try.” Brock appeared impressed by the choice. “This place lives up to its reputation.”

  “It does,” Erin agreed, hoping she looked as if she spent every weekend at a restaurant where the bill would no doubt come to well over a week’s rent. “I honestly don’t know what to have.”

  “Well, we’re in no hurry, are we? It’s only seven. Why don’t we start with something like the seafood platter, and we’ll just take our time. It’s amazing how much you can eat and drink when you spread it over a few hours.”

  Erin shook her head in bemusement. If someone had told her a few weeks ago she’d be spending her birthday with a billionaire at Paua Cliffs, she’d have laughed them out of the room!

  They shared the seafood platter, nibbling at the tempura battered prawns, the maple-pepper salmon bites, and the Bloody Mary oyster shots, and Erin had a glass of Pinot Gris from the local vineyard, while Brock had a glass of Merlot.

  While they ate, they talked about everything under the sun, music, movies, sports, art, gradually feeling their way around each other’s lives and discovering what they liked and disliked. As they progressed onto their mains—medium-rare Angus fillet for Brock and Tuscan-style grilled tuna steak for Erin—they moved on to talking about deeper things, enjoying their exploration of each other.

  Brock asked her lots of questions, and whereas normally Erin would have been hesitant to discuss her personal thoughts on delicate topics, especially on a first date, his genuine interest and the way he listened to her opinion meant she gradually relaxed and opened up.

  That might have had a little to do with the wine too, she conceded as the evening progressed. She made sure she sipped water alongside the Pinot Gris, but there was no doubt the alcohol was having an effect. As they moved onto a rather splendid trio of chocolate desserts and then coffee, Erin welcomed the warmth and slight haze that accompanied the wine, enjoying not having to worry that someone might need her.

  For the first time in a while, a silence had fallen between them, and Erin’s gaze drifted across the bay. They’d been sitting at the table for nearly two-and-a-half hours, and the sun had set, flooding the sea with orange and then purple. Inside the restaurant, a grand piano sat in one corner next to a small dance floor, and about an hour ago a man in a suit had started playing Christmas songs while a beautiful young woman in a silver gown sang along. Now, she was singing Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas, and a shiver descended Erin’s spine.

  “Would you like to dance?”

  She turned startled eyes to her dinner partner. He was watching her, his head tipped to the side, a smile on his lips. She glanced across to the piano. “There’s nobody else dancing.”

  “So?” He got to his feet and held out his hand. From the things he’d told her throughout the evening, Erin had gradually come to understand that beneath his quiet, gentle facade was the steely determination of a man who hadn’t got where he was by taking no for an answer, and who didn’t care a jot what other people thought of him.

  She stared at his hand, her face warming, then slowly got to her feet and took it.

  Chapter Twelve

  Erin slipped her hand into Brock’s, smiling as his fingers closed around hers. He led her into the restaurant, threading through the diners to the wooden floor by the piano, then turned her into his arms and pulled her close.

  After several hours of sitting there, watching him across the table and listening to his low, sexy voice, it felt blissful to finally being able to touch him. He held her right hand in his left, and rested his other hand on her hip. Erin placed her left hand on his shoulder, conscious of the smell of his aftershave rising from his warm skin. He’d told her he was going to shave before dinner, and sure enough, his jaw was smooth, free of the bristle that had darkened it earlier.

  Conscious of some of the other diners watching them, she kept her gaze lowered, the heat in her face telling her she was blushing.

  “Don’t be embarrassed,” he teased, lowering his head to touch his lips to her cheek. “Every man in this room is wishing he was the one dancing with you.”

  “And every woman is wishing you were holding her.” She looked up, meeting his gaze for a moment, then looked back at his collar again. “I like this shirt.”

  He gave a short laugh and pulled her a little closer as the song changed to “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” starting to sing along softly to the song. He had a lovely voice, deep and smooth like Nat King Cole’s, and Erin closed her eyes, feeling as if she were made of chocolate that was slowly softening under the heat of his gaze.

  Now he was humming, his mouth close to her ear, and she knew if she turned her head his lips would brush her cheek. Her eyelids fluttered open, her gaze captivated by the sparkle of the tinsel around the windows. It was like creeping down the stairs as a child on Christmas Eve and spotting a large parcel in front of the tree with a big red bow. She wanted to sneak up and shake it, slowly pull the bow undone, and see what was inside. Part of her didn’t want to spoil it, wanted to prolong the anticipation, just in case the gift wasn’t as wonderful as she imagined, but equally she knew she couldn’t make it last forever.

  Turning her head, she lifted her face a little, and he looked down, his lips almost touching the corner of her mouth. Gosh, he was tall, at least four or five inches taller than her in her heels, and as she moved her hand across his shoulder, her fingers tightened on firm muscle.

  They were moving more slowly now, and she felt his hand splay on her lower back, not descending onto her butt, but daring nonetheless, pulling her to him so their bodies were flush from hip to chest. Something was happening between them, she could feel it, changing subtly the way flour and eggs and raisins and cinnamon turned to delicious Christmas pudding in the oven.

  She giggled and felt his lips curve against her cheek.

  “What are you laughing about?” he murmured.

  “I’m comparing you in my head to Christmas pudding.”

  “I’ve been called worse in my time.”

  She laughed, caught up in the spell of the evening, and Brock chuckled, turned her nimbly around on the dance floor, then slowed again.

  “You’re incredibly sexy,” he said, nuzzling her ear.

  “Thank you.” She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, knowing he shouldn’t kiss her in the middle of the dance floor, desperately hoping he would. “I’m having such a lovely evening.”

  “I’m glad.”

  She wondered if he’d say And it’s not over yet, or something equally as suggestive to tell her he was interested in taking this further. He didn’t, but his breath was warm on her skin.

  Erin lifted her face a fraction. He dropped his head a tiny bit more. And then his lips were touching hers, and they exchanged a long, sedate kiss that nevertheless sent her pulse racing.

  When he eventually lifted his head, she glanced around the room, wondering if anyone had noticed. Judging by the smiles, several people had, and she returned her gaze to his collar, embarrassed and also gleeful at having been
caught smooching in the middle of the dance floor with such a gorgeous guy.

  “I like the way you make me feel fifteen again,” she said.

  “I expect you to pass me notes in Science tomorrow.”

  She giggled. “Only if you promise to meet me behind the bike sheds.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  They both laughed. Erin closed her eyes again, drifting off into a dream world. She didn’t want tonight to end. If only they could keep dancing here forever, Brock’s arms warm around her, his lips grazing hers from time to time.

  But of course all good things come to an end, and eventually the song finished. Brock took her hand and led her from the dance floor, smiling as the other diners clapped and one older man whistled.

  “You make a lovely couple, dear,” the old man’s wife said as they passed. “So romantic.”

  “Thank you,” Erin said graciously, deciding it would take too much effort to describe the situation.

  Brock gave her an amused gaze before giving the waiter his room number for the bill, and then they left the restaurant and walked slowly across the courtyard back to their rooms.

  Although far from cold, the temperature had dropped a little, and the cool evening air cleared the wine-induced haze from Erin’s mind. Her heart started to race as they neared her door. What was Brock going to say? Would he ask her back to his room? And what would she reply if he did? She couldn’t possibly have a one-night stand with him. Could she? Did it make her a terrible person that she desperately wanted to get him naked? She hadn’t had sex for so long that the notion of letting this man strip off her sundress and make love to her in the gorgeous bed made her as nervous as it did excited.

  They stopped outside her door, and Brock turned her to face him. He was smiling, and he pulled her close and lifted a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you have a nice evening?” he asked.

  “I did, thank you, the best in… well… ever, I think.”

  “I’m glad. Happy birthday, Erin.” He bent his head and touched his lips to hers, but it was a demure kiss, just a press of lips, and within seconds he lifted his head again. “I hope you sleep well,” he said softly. “I’ll call for you in the morning, around eight, and we’ll catch some breakfast before we go, eh?”

  She nodded, surprised at the intensity of the disappointment that rose within her when she realized he was going to leave. “Sure.”

  Their eyes met, but she couldn’t read his expression. Was he thinking about his wife? She opened her mouth, but no words would come. If she asked him to stay, he might say no, and how would she feel then?

  “Goodnight.” He gave her a last smile, turned, walked to his door, and let himself in.

  The door closed.

  “Fuck.” Erin looked up at the Southern Cross constellation that glittered in the sky above her, more beautiful than any of the Christmas baubles in the restaurant, and blew out a long breath. She’d practically forced him to state that he didn’t expect anything in return for taking her away for the night, plus he was still struggling to get over losing his wife.

  It had been a lovely evening, and she had to take it for what it was—a pleasant date with a nice guy, rather than be disappointed because it hadn’t turned into a steamy sex session.

  She would have loved some steamy sex. But it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any in the future. It wouldn’t surprise her if he asked to see her again, so maybe in a few weeks’ or months’ time, when he’d got used to the idea of seeing someone else, they’d get around to it. It would have to be baby steps for both of them, and that was much more sensible than diving into bed on the first date.

  Sighing, she went in and closed the door. She crossed the room and opened the sliding doors onto the deck, and turned on the hot tub, heating up the water ready for the dip under the stars she’d promised herself earlier.

  Returning inside, she slipped out of her dress and put on her bikini, not quite brave enough to get into the tub naked even though nobody would be able to see her, then went over to the minibar and studied the contents. She didn’t want anything to eat and she’d already drunk several glasses of wine, but she fancied taking something into the tub with her.

  There were a few little bottles of spirits, and she surveyed them moodily. Brock had promised her a glass of Lagavulin, but they hadn’t gotten around to it before they’d left the restaurant.

  Perhaps she should ask him if he fancied a nightcap.

  Her heart rate picked up at the idea, but she scolded herself for it. How desperate would that look? She couldn’t just bang on his door and say Do you want a whisky to finish off the night? Could she?

  Biting her lip, she grabbed the complementary white bathrobe and slipped it on, shoved her feet into her sandals, and walked to the door.

  Then she stopped. This was stupid. She couldn’t possibly knock on the guy’s door and practically beg him for sex. How cheap was that?

  She walked back to the bed and took it off.

  Put it back on.

  Took it off again.

  Growling at herself, she went to the hot tub and tested the water. She retrieved a towel from the bathroom and laid it on the table next to the tub, along with a hair clip, a tumbler and a miniature of Jack Daniel’s, and a small pack of mint chocolates from the minibar. She put her phone into the speaker system on the table and chose a playlist of Christmas songs. Then she tidied up her clothes.

  Finally, she swore out loud, put on the bathrobe, marched across to the door, and wrenched it open.

  She stopped with a gasp. Brock stood outside, still dressed in his jeans and shirt, carrying a bottle of something that look suspiciously like an Islay malt whisky, obviously in the process of pacing up and down.

  They stared at each other, their lips gradually curving up.

  “How long have you been out here?” she asked.

  “About five minutes.” He scratched his cheek, then lifted the bottle to show her the Lagavulin label. “I thought you might like a nightcap. Then I told myself I’d promised you I didn’t want anything in return for arranging the trip and you might feel obliged to say yes. Then I thought if I didn’t ask you, you might think I’m not interested in you, and that is so far from the truth it seemed idiotic not to ask. Then my brain started to hurt.”

  Erin sighed. “I think we know each other well enough by now to understand what’s going on. I’d love a drink, and the hot tub’s all ready to go, so for God’s sake come in and pour us both a glass before one of us dies from old age.”

  Laughing, he walked past her into the room. Erin closed the door behind him, filled with relief and a heady sense of excitement. Thank God. He felt the same way about her that she felt about him. They were two consenting adults who enjoyed each other’s company, and it was the twenty-first century, and it wasn’t anyone else’s business what went on in this room except hers and Brock’s.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Erin directed Brock to go out onto the deck while she collected another glass from the kitchen, so he wandered across the room and through the open sliding doors, taking the bottle with him.

  In spite of the warm weather that day, the breeze from the sea was cool enough to make him shiver, although that could also have been due to the situation, he thought as he closed his eyes and breathed in the warm and fragrant summer air. He’d been on the verge of turning around and going back to his room, certain that if he knocked on Erin’s door she’d either give him an outright no, look exasperated as if he’d confirmed her worst fear that he’d had ulterior motives, or sigh and let him in with the air of not having any alternative. Instead, she’d clearly been about to call on him, and her face had lit with pleasure.

  His skin tingled at the notion of where the evening was heading. He’d fought with himself for a while, staring at the bottle of whisky he’d bought earlier as the devil on his shoulder argued with the angel on the other side. He’d kissed her already, the devil had argued—that was the difficult bit, the m
oment where he’d crossed the final boundary from grief into moving on with his life. The symbolism was important, not the actual act, and the next step of taking things further wasn’t important at all in the big scheme of things.

  But of course it was, and the angel knew that perfectly well. Kissing a woman was one thing—taking off his clothes and making love to her was most definitely another. If he went home now, he could convince himself that he hadn’t been unfaithful—that he’d dipped his toe in the water but had managed to fight the urge to dive in, and he knew he’d be able to forgive himself for the brief transgression. If he went further, though, if he went to bed with Erin, he’d be accepting that Fleur had gone and that part of his life was done, and it made him immeasurably sad.

  Brock knew he was only human, but all his life he’d fought to be more than the sum of his parts. He didn’t want to be one of those guys who used animal passion as an excuse for not being a gentleman. In another lifetime, he would have entered a monastery and taken vows, determined he’d never sully his memory of Fleur by bedding another woman.

  But this wasn’t medieval England, and when it came down to it, he was young and healthy, and he liked sex. A lot. He missed it—the heat, the excitement, the intense physical release that just wasn’t the same when he achieved it on his own, as well as the joy of giving someone else pleasure. But it was more than that, too. Erin wasn’t just convenient—the first port in a storm. He met a lot of women in his job, and he could have dated any number of times, but he’d not even come close to being interested until he’d met Erin. He liked her. She made him laugh, and they got on well, which was no small thing.

  Plus she was hot. He wanted to kiss her again, and he wanted to make love to her, and he even though his brain wanted him to have idealistic tendencies, he was tired of fighting that basic need.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” Erin joined him on the deck and looked up at the stars. “The Milky Way is so clear here.”