Christmas Down Under: Six Sexy New Zealand & Australian Christmas Romances

by Rosalind James

  “I can take them now,” her friend decided. “Not later this afternoon, unfortunately. Dentist. What a way to spend the last Friday of their holidays, eh. But drop them by on your way home, and I can keep them till two or so. That suit you?”

  “Thanks,” Jenna told her with relief. Whatever it was Finn had to say, at least it’d be over with quickly.

  “Finn?” she called as she stepped into the villa half an hour later. “I’m home.”

  He came out of the lounge to meet her. “Where are the kids?”

  “Siobhan’s. Till two.”

  “Want to go for a walk with me, then? We could have lunch.”

  “Finn.” She was still holding the heavy bag with the kids’ swimming gear, she realized, and set it down on the tile floor. “If you’re going to fire me, just do it, OK? I can’t handle waiting for it.”

  “What?” He stared at her. “Why would I fire you?”

  “Because I was unreasonable last night. I know I was. That I insulted you in the worst possible way.”

  “Jenna.” He came to her, put his hands on her shoulders. “I was planning to apologize for losing my temper. I’m not too good at that, apologizing. Took me a while to work up to it. But I thought, once I did, we could talk about it.”

  “Oh.” She swayed towards him in relief, leaned into him as he pulled her close.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Oi,” he said softly. “Are you crying again?”

  She nodded against his chest, sniffed. Hugged him to her. “I was wrong. I’m so sorry.”

  “Reckon we were both wrong,” he sighed. “And that we should take that walk.”

  * * *

  “Let me start,” she told him as they set out on the track that led to the top of the Mt. Eden Domain. “I thought about it a lot last night. I don’t know why I jumped to the conclusion that you’d do something like that. My mind just … yeah, it jumped. Just like that. It was in my head, all of a sudden, and I was terrified. I did realize, afterwards, that it wasn’t the kind of thing you’d do.”

  “I thought about it too,” he said. “I’d like you to trust me, but I can see that your marriage may have shaken your faith. I’d like to think I’m not much like your ex-husband, though.”

  “Nothing like him. In any sense.”

  He glanced down at her. “Well, in one sense, anyway, let’s hope. But … why would you assume all men are like that? Liars. Users. Why would you assume that about me?”

  “Because I’ve never known any men,” she tried to explain. “Look at me. I’ve been a Year One teacher my whole career. Not exactly a male-dominated profession. How many male primary teachers do you know?”

  “None,” he admitted.

  “That’s right. My friends are all women, have always been women. We didn’t even have many couple friends. Guess why.”

  “Your dad, though?” he asked. “What about him?”

  “No dad. Well, of course I must have had one,” she corrected herself. “But I didn’t know him.”

  “Buggered off, eh.”

  “Never there to begin with, actually. I don’t even know who he was,” she confessed.

  “Your mum never told you?”

  “My mum never knew. She said she was ‘partying’ at the time, when I asked her. So, yeah. She had boyfriends, while I was growing up. Plenty of those. But they never took much interest. Which is just as well, probably. She didn’t have great taste in men. I doubt they’d have enhanced my view of the gender any. So,” she sighed. “I’m doing my best here. But I don’t have much to work with.”

  They’d reached the top of Mt. Eden now, stood quietly for a minute looking out at the Harbour, the dotted green volcanoes and neighborhoods that made up Auckland, the Waitakeres rising to the west.

  “Don’t know quite what to say to all that,” he said finally. “I could say, trust me. But I’m not sure that’s going to help much.”

  “But I do!” she protested. “I do trust you. As much as I can. If I didn’t, I’d never have slept with you in the first place.”

  “Thought it was because I was so irresistible.” He smiled down at her at last.

  “That too,” she smiled back. “But also because you’re … who you are. A good man.”

  “OK,” he said. “And for the record. I’ve never made a sex tape. Never taken naked photos of a woman, either. Always more interested in what was happening at the time.”

  “You shouldn’t even have to tell me that,” she said, ashamed.

  “But can I just say,” he went on, pulling her close, “that if I were the kind of bloke who took photos, I can think of a few I’d like to have? Starting with last night.”

  “It didn’t ruin it, then? What happened?” She rested against him, snuggling close to fend off the chill of the wind, always strongest here on the peak.

  “Nah.” She could feel the rumble in his chest as he chuckled. “It didn’t ruin it. I don’t think a nuclear blast could’ve ruined that for me.”

  “It worked pretty well for me too,” she admitted. “It’s an adventure, being with you.”

  “Is that the only set you bought, yesterday?” he asked. “Or is there anything else you have to show me?”

  “Maybe,” she teased, light with relief now that the crisis was over. “Want to see?”

  “You know I do.” He looked at his watch. “Noon. When do we have to get the kids?”

  “Two.”

  “Mind if I don’t take you out to lunch, then, after all? Would you settle for a sandwich, later?”

  “Yeah.” She smiled up at him. “Are you telling me you want me to model the other outfit? No photos, no tapes? Just you and me?”

  “Yeh.” He bent to kiss her. “You and me. You missed your run today, eh. Race you home.”

  * * *

  “Can I ask you a question?” Jenna asked Natalie on Monday. They were sitting on the floor in front of Nat’s coffee table, eating a dinner that Natalie had been especially grateful for, this first day back after the holidays. Finn had taken the kids to school that morning, Sophie complaining vociferously beforehand as always about the end of the break. Fortunately, the Year One students Jenna had worked with today had been more excited about being back at school again, if a bit boisterous after two weeks off.

  “Sure.” Natalie took another bite of quinoa salad and waved her fork in Jenna’s direction. “Shoot.”

  “Well. As you know, Jeremy was gay,” Jenna began.

  “Not likely to forget that, am I. Made a bit of an impact, at the time. Is that the question?”

  “No. I’m not exactly sure how to ask this. But OK. If you’re with someone who isn’t gay. Someone straight. What’s … what’s normal? I mean, do you have sex all the time, think about it all the time? Or … or what?” Jenna ended lamely, seeing the surprised look on Natalie’s face.

  “I can’t ask anyone else,” she said apologetically. “I’m not asking you for a report or anything. I mean, on your relationship now. Just … in general. It would be helpful.”

  “Doing a bit of research, are you?” Natalie asked, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Or do I take it you’ve entered the land of the living?”

  “Just tell me, OK?” Jenna asked desperately. “In general. What’s normal?”

  “Well,” Natalie said judiciously. “If you read the research, they’ll tell you, two, three times a week. For Kiwis, anyway. But that’s an average. At the beginning, yeh, you tend to do it more.”

  “More than twice a week,” Jenna said. “Every day? Or even more? Do people do it that much? And do you mind saying, do you think about it more? More than you do it?”

  “Well, yeh. More than I do it. Not like I walk around in a fog or anything, or even do it all the time, when I’ve got a partner, like now. That’s more when you’re a teenager. You remember, when it’s all you can think about. All you want to do.”

  “I don’t, actually. Remember, that is,” Jenna said gloomily. “I met Jeremy when I was nineteen. And d
idn’t date all that much before then. Nobody I really fancied.”

  “So what is it you’re worried about now?” Natalie asked. “That you think about it too much? Or not enough?”

  She sat upright suddenly, pointed her fork at Jenna. “Oi! Finn! That’s what this is about! I thought there was something different about you tonight. What did you get up to, while I was on holiday? Are you telling me that’s gone somewhere at last?”

  “Well, yeah,” Jenna admitted, feeling her color rise. “Yeah, it did. It has.”

  “And how is it?” Natalie asked eagerly. “Good? Worth all the agonizing I know you did first?”

  “Yeah.” Jenna smiled across at her ruefully. “Worth it. Really good. I know, I don’t have a basis for comparison. But I can’t imagine anything better.”

  “Ah.” Nat stood up to gather their plates. “And how’s your heart?”

  “Involved,” Jenna sighed. “But I think his might be too. He’s really great. Really great.”

  “What’re you still doing here, then?” Natalie demanded. “It’s gone eight already. Go on. Go home and get some more of that.”

  But Natalie hadn’t answered her question, Jenna realized on the bus home. Or, rather, she had. And it had been the answer she’d feared.

  Finn was there to meet her in the entryway when she stepped inside.

  “Kids OK?” she pulled back from his embrace to ask.

  “In bed, and asleep,” he confirmed. “I checked. So go put on some of that new gear, and come upstairs.”

  “I’m not sure it’s a good idea,” she hesitated. “Tonight.”

  “Why? Are you on your period? Don’t care.”

  “No!” she laughed, blushing. “No. But … Never mind,” she capitulated. “I’ll ask you later.”

  “Later would be better,” he confirmed. “As in later, in bed. After I’ve looked at you in those thong panties enough, and taken them off. I have such good ideas.”

  “OK,” she smiled. “But I need a shower first.”

  “Brilliant,” he told her. “We’ll take it together, get started in there. And then maybe you’ll put on those black things for me, the ones you wore the first night. With the stockings. And we can try something I have in mind. And then I’ll take some of it off, and we’ll try something else. Because I just remembered. It’s your Unbirthday, tonight.”

  * * *

  “Finn,” she said quietly as they lay together later, still breathing a bit hard. “Am I a nymphomaniac?”

  “What?” He laughed, propped himself on an elbow to look at her. “You?”

  “Because I asked Natalie tonight. How much was … you know. Normal. And she didn’t say, exactly. But it seems like I think about it too much.” She felt herself blushing, went on determinedly. “All the time. And I want to do it every day. I think that’s too much. From what she said. That most women don’t feel like that. What does that make me?”

  “Hot,” he told her firmly. Lay back down next to her and pulled her against him.

  “Besides,” he went on more thoughtfully, his hand stroking over her back, “seems to me you went through a fair few of your prime years shut down in that department. Could be you’re just catching up. And we only have a few weeks here. Got to pay it forward as well.”

  “That’s true,” she said more cheerfully. “What about you? You seem to think about it a lot too.”

  He laughed again. “I’m a bloke. It’s what we do. Haven’t you heard? Yeh, I think about it a fair bit. And I’m doing some catching up too, remember?”

  “What? A few months, maybe? It hardly compares, does it?”

  “Oi. For me, it does,” he protested. “And remember, I spent those months living with you. And I knew what the possibilities were. What I was missing. So I’ve been saving all this up. Just like you.”

  “I’m not a nymphomaniac, then.” She wriggled closer to the warmth of his big body.

  “Dunno. Are you eyeing the postie, these days? Wondering how he looks under that sexy uniform?”

  “No!” she giggled.

  “My mate Ian looking good to you today?” he asked in mock alarm. “Got you fancying a shag in the supply cupboard after all?”

  She hit him in the chest. “You know I’m not. Don’t be silly. You know it’s just you.”

  He leaned across her to turn out the bedside light. “Reckon you’re not a nymphomaniac, then,” he said, rolling her over and settling himself around her spoon fashion, one big arm resting across her chest. “And that I’m a lucky fella. Now go to sleep, please.”

  “I should go back to my own bed,” she protested, nestling into him.

  “I’ll wake you in time,” he promised. “And I love to fall asleep with you. Stay with me.”

  Laundry Room

  “What the … Jenna!”

  She winced at the slammed door and the volume of the shout, then took a deep breath and continued sorting laundry, listened to Finn striding through the house, still shouting for her, until he appeared in the doorway of the laundry room, a paper in his hand and a scowl on his face.

  “I’ve been calling you,” he told her in frustration. “Why haven’t you answered?”

  “I can’t hear you when you shout that loudly,” she told him calmly as she finished loading the machine. “I don’t like to be yelled at,” she clarified as he stared at her in bafflement. “Now that you’re not shouting, though, what can I help you with?”

  “This.” He held up the paper, shook it for good measure. “Did you see this?”

  She nodded, added detergent and fabric softener to the machine. “I found it in Sophie’s backpack this morning and put it out for you.”

  “She’s been reading under the desk in class, not paying any attention? So much that the teacher has to write to me about it? I’m going to have a few words for her when she gets home.”

  “Maybe you should find out more about it first,” she suggested.

  “What is there to find out about? It’s unacceptable.” His voice was rising again.

  “Please don’t yell at me. If you want to discuss this, we’ll talk. Otherwise, take your anger somewhere else,” she told him.

  “What is there to talk about?” he asked again. But he did lower his voice.

  “Well, for one thing, is she doing it in every subject, or just in some?”

  “What does that matter?”

  “I’m thinking if it’s during math or science, it’s an issue. But if it’s just during reading …” Jenna shrugged. “It could be that she’s bored. She’s reading and writing a couple grade levels above her age, you know. Have you looked at the work she brings home?”

  “Not much,” he admitted.

  “Maybe you ought to do that. It’s too easy for her, Finn. She should be doing something that will push her. Maybe she could even join a Year Four or Five classroom every day for reading and writing, or read and write about some of her own books. I don’t know for sure, of course, but I’m guessing that could be the issue. You might want to have a talk with the teacher before you discuss it with Sophie.”

  “Right. I’ll do that,” he said grudgingly. “But in any case, she needs to pay attention during school. That’s her job. She needs to work at it.”

  “Granted. But it’s also the school’s job to challenge her.”

  “Why do you have to be so bloody reasonable?” he grumbled. “You have an answer for everything. You won’t even let me yell.”

  She smiled. “Guess you’ll have to save all that explosive power of yours for the rugby field. You’re probably too bottled up right now, three whole weeks with no practice or anything.” She turned on the washer, leaned over to pull the towels from the dryer, then jumped at the feeling of his big hand closing over her backside.

  “You could be right,” he told her, his other hand reaching out now to pull her back against him. “Reckon I need another outlet for my … explosive power.”

  “Finn,” she laughed as he pulled her close with one hand and
reached around to unbutton her blouse with the other. “I’m doing the laundry here.” The laugh turned to a moan as he bent to kiss the side of her neck, one hand pulling off her blouse, under her bra now, the other hand moving beneath her skirt.

  “Mmm. So sexy doing it, too,” he said. “Barefoot. Very cooperative of you to wear this little skirt. Almost like you were expecting me.”

  She felt him hard against her and couldn’t help pressing back into him as he used both hands now to pull off her underwear, then unhooked her bra and tossed it aside. “It’s the middle of the day,” she protested weakly.

  “Kids in school, hot woman getting her gear off,” he agreed. “Works for me.” He looked around, walked her over to the big laundry table, the folded clothes stacked neatly on top.

  His breath was coming faster now. “Bend over and hold onto the edge,” he instructed, undoing his belt and unzipping his jeans.

  Her eyes opened wide even as a rush of heat flooded through her. “What?”

  “Do it. Please,” he amended. She heard the sound of the condom packet ripping. He really did mean to do it right here. Feeling both embarrassed and excited, she bent over and reached out both hands to grasp the table’s edge, felt him hard behind her as his big hands came around to cover her breasts. Feeling him like this, not being able to see him, her vulnerable position, his hands on her, pinching the nipples now, all combined in a rush of sensation. She moaned as he let go of her breasts, flipped up her skirt, and positioned her to push himself inside.

  It should have been too soon, but she was more than ready for him. She backed up against him as he held her, pushed into her again and again. Heard his breath coming hard now, matching her own. When he reached his hand around to rub her, she pressed back against him, moaning with it now.

  “Please. Yes. Harder,” she gasped as he thrust into her, his hand never stopping. She was past caring how she looked, bent over the table like this, how hard he was holding her, the force of it. He took her higher and higher, more and more, until she released with a wailing cry.

  * * *

  He needed to see the rest of her, right now. He pulled her upright, lifted her up onto the table, pushed her down and pulled her hips level with its edge, open to him. Stepped up to her, one hand on each white thigh, and slowly, so slowly, entered her again. Watched her head go back, then move from side to side as he thrust.