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

by Rosalind James

  Eugenie followed his gaze. Laura had moved away, he noted, and Pen stood on her own, in the crowd, sipping from her glass of wine, glancing around.

  She looked lonely.

  “Michael, are you and Penny…” Eugenie hesitated.

  He dragged his gaze away from her. “Are we what?” he asked, curiously.

  “Are you two an item?”

  Michael spluttered into his orange juice. “No. Hell, no. Whatever made you think that?”

  “Oh, just the way you came in together.” She smiled in a way that made his back stiffen. “You seem very close and comfortable with each other.”

  He relaxed. A little. “We are. We’ve been friends for years. I hadn’t seen her for a while, we caught up, and I thought she might like to come out here.” He drew a breath. “And for the record, she thinks of me as a brother.”

  Something flashed across his mother’s eyes and then was gone. “A substitute for Greg?”

  “Perhaps. In a way.”

  Eugenie gazed thoughtfully at him. “Then I think she’s very lucky to have a friend like you.”

  Michael shrugged, stunned at how uncomfortable he was receiving praise from his mother. He was unused to it. Just how much had she drunk today.

  “Michael?” She hesitated.

  He steeled himself.

  She looked straight at him, a look he recognised from his teenage years. Those rare times she’d been in the country; those rare times she had been his mother.

  “I know that work was everything for me and for Jerome when you were growing up. We placed far too much importance on it. Or at least I did. We were competitive against each other.”

  He frowned. He’d seen their passion but had never seen it as competition between them. “Was that a bad thing?” he asked solemnly.

  She shook her head. Smiled. “It was a great thing. It got us where we are today; it got us careers we could only dream about when we graduated. But,” she said, exhaling on a whoosh of air, “it came at a cost. And that cost was not being around enough for you, and not having another child. Neither of us thought it was ideal – that you were an only child. But regretfully, it was the way it turned out.

  “But I want you to know this. That sometimes it’s not everything to be the best at what you do. Striving for success doesn’t equate with happiness all the time.”

  “It did for you. Didn’t it?”

  She nodded. “Yes, it did. But we were the exception. We were the lucky ones.”

  He wasn’t sure it was luck at all, and much as he loathed the sentiment, his parents were perfect for each other.

  Michael glanced at her. “Then I’m not sure what you’re saying.”

  Eugenie’s eyes were suddenly piercing. “I’m saying that maybe we made a mistake, that we – or at least I – could have done things differently. Not put so much into my career. Not been so competitive with each other and with our peers.”

  He said, “I know I had an unusual childhood. But it makes me think that if it had been any other way, I may not have spent so much time at the Portmans.” He glanced over at Pen. She was talking to a guy, now. He didn’t recognise him but he looked to be not much older than her.

  He looked away. “I wouldn’t have met the family and got to know them.”

  “There is that, of course.”

  She reached out, placed her hand firmly on his sleeve. “But what I’m really trying to say is this. You don’t have to go down that road yourself and put everything ahead of your personal life.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not doing that.” Of course he’d never do that, put success ahead of his personal life. Go and do what his parents had done.

  His mother added a token slosh of wine to his glass. “I don’t want to see you lose sight of what’s important while you’re going after something that in the end might pale in comparison.”

  He was even more confused than ever now, and he said, “You don’t have to worry. I don’t have a wife. I don’t have kids. It’s not an issue.”

  “Oh, Michael.” She shook her head, looking up at him. “That’s my point.” She waved out to a woman approaching her. “That is exactly my point.”

  She excused herself and turned to the woman, while Michael considered what she’d said. She’d implied he was so hung up on success he was forgetting what was important. Hadn’t she?

  Penny was walking towards him now, and when she reached him she said lightly, “You look intense.”

  He glanced across at Eugenie. “I just had the strangest conversation with my mother. Or it might have been a lecture.” He took a gulp of the wine. “I’m not sure what it was.”

  “I’m glad to see there are no hard feelings then.” Pen absently reached for the chain around her neck, rubbed it between her thumb and finger. It settled at the juncture of her breasts. He saw flashes of black bra. Pen and sexy.

  He glanced away.

  “I’ve been talking to Laura.” A gust of wind came, blew her hair across her forehead and she dropped the locket and brushed her hair away.

  Michael stared back at the locket. His gaze dipped.

  He loosened his collar. “I noticed.”

  She inclined her head. “She was saying the two of you had gone out a few years back.”

  “I went out with a lot of…” He stopped. Not going to sound good, McGuinn. He shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Our parents were good friends. They had ideas.”

  “She lectures in law. She is obviously incredibly smart.”

  “Too smart. Those looks are deceptive. Men get a shock when they realise just how brilliant she is and some of them, have never recovered.”

  Pen looked away, her lips pursed.

  He frowned. “Did Laura say something to upset you?”

  “No. Nothing like that. She’s very nice, actually. She’s going to call me later in the week about catering a friend’s engagement party. I’m just surprised it didn’t work out between the two of you. You look as if you’d go well together.”

  A lot of people had thought that.

  “We fizzled out before we actually did set a date and do the deed.”

  “And your parents recovered once they realised the society wedding of the year wasn’t going to happen?”

  Penelope was astute. “I assume so. Though no doubt it was traumatic at the time.”

  She rolled her eyes, and he grinned at her. “Which brings me to an observation.” He narrowed his gaze at her. “You’re very interested in my love life these days. That’s not the first time in recent memory.”

  Her eyes were stunningly bright. “Yours isn’t the only one. I used to hassle Greg all the time.”

  There was a hint of challenge in there that disturbed him, that he didn’t know how to react to.

  “Hmmm. I’m not sure I signed up for that when I promised Greg I’d keep an eye on you.”

  The challenge seemed to shift gear, and without warning, she reached out and took his empty glass. Her fingers accidentally brushed his and he tensed a fraction.

  She said, “I’ll get you another orange juice. I don’t want my chauffer drunk.”

  She was gone before he could reply and he watched her walk away. Her hips swayed with each stride she took, her hair lifting around her shoulders and down her back.

  Penny was starting to surprise him, he noted, as she snagged a waiter, and selected two flutes of orange juice from the tray.

  There was a lot to like about her. She was considerate, she was funny. She liked looking after people. Yes, his feelings for her went deep.

  She came back, handed him a glass, and he pushed away the knowledge that maybe he didn’t know what those feelings were at all.

  “I think we should make a toast,” he said.

  Her eyes sparkled. “To what?”

  “To new beginnings.”

  Her eyes darkened, and she held the gaze and he held his breath. This was weird.

  Like that jolt earlier, he was suddenly filled with confusion.
<
br />   “What,” she began finally, “are your new beginnings?”

  Someone brushed past, accidentally nudged him, forcing him to take a step closer to Pen, so that they were now only inches apart. She looked straight up at him, the hint of challenge in her eyes as everything around them went still. And quiet.

  His throat was dry.

  He’d forgotten her question.

  Then she smiled, and the stillness between them vanished as suddenly as it had arrived, and he became aware of voices, the jazz guitarist, laughter, a welcome breeze of cool air across his face.

  She held out her glass, focusing on the touch of crystal flute to crystal flute. There was a delicate chink. “To new beginnings.”

  He swallowed down, used every ounce of courage he possessed to sound as if she hadn’t just thrown his thoughts into turmoil.

  He brought the flute to his lips. “To new beginnings.”

  Chapter Five

  The following week dragged by as Pen spent far too much time rehashing the barbeque and the conversations she’d had there.

  Wondering if Michael was kidding himself that he and Laura Taverner were just friends. He’d spoken so highly of her, so admiringly. She’d spoken so well of him.

  Penny rolled her eyes at her own words. They’d had the hots for each other and maybe they still did.

  She had to stop thinking about them. About the party. About Michael and wondering why at times he’d gone so quiet. Why at times he’d looked so strangely at her.

  Why at times she’d detected an uncomfortable shift in the atmosphere…

  And she was over analysing again.

  The perils of the modern girl.

  She checked her phone. It had just gone five, the cafe was due to close in fifteen minutes, and she had a cake decorating class about to begin.

  She glanced around the cramped room off the kitchen, where the group of expectant cake decorators were chatting.

  An hour ago she'd expected eight women; ten had shown up and it was a tight squeeze. The two late arrivals were twin sisters in their late teens, planning to make their parents a surprise cupcake tower for their anniversary. The assistants, Meghan and Brett, were in the shop getting ready to close up for the day but Pen had done a quick check of the cakes and the icing and there was plenty. She let the sisters join the class.

  The sisters had high-fived and Pen had warned them “Next time, you seriously need to book for these classes or I’ll charge you double.”

  They proceeded to blame each other and Penny broke up the potential fight and wondered if they had in fact lied about their ages and were closer to ten than twenty.

  She clapped her hands to get everyone’s attention and as the class silenced, she noted Brett at the door, beckoning her over.

  In a low voice he said, “We’ve just got in a walking group of about twenty. Meghan reckons we can serve them but I'm checking with you. What do you think?"

  A group this late? Penny glanced at the clock, thought fast. "Do they want coffee?"

  “No. All tea drinkers.”

  "Much left in the cabinets?”

  He waggled his hand “Enough.”

  “Okay. Tell Meghan, that’s fine. I’m going to be out here for the next hour but if anything happens, get Meghan to buzz me.”

  Pen went back to the group, apologised again, and checked her notes.

  Not that she was going to look at them. Once she began talking about baking and decorating, she was in her element.

  She introduced herself, made the group tell them why they were interested in cake decorating, and took the cloth off the table to reveal the bowls, ingredients and the utensils.

  Rows of perfectly formed plain cupcakes were lined up.

  The group gasped.

  She set a tray in front of them. “And here,” she said, "is what we’re going to attempt to decorate today. They look difficult but when you get the hang of them, they’re fun to make. And eat.”

  She uncovered the tray to reveal the decorated cupcakes.

  Everyone gasped again.

  She gestured to recipe cards for the butter icing.

  “I’m going to show the process to you, one step at a time so gather around.”

  She tightened the bow on her apron, and glanced up as Meghan came in, and whispered in her ear, “Did you see Brett just before?"

  “Yep. Why?”

  “He came over faint a minute ago.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “Yeah, he said he is. But his girlfriend just got over a serious bout of flu."

  “Sheesh. How are you coping with the walking group?”

  “They’re fine. They’re eating up all the food which is good. Some moaned about the lack of coffee but they knew that before they ordered. Might be a mission getting them out by five thirty though.”

  "Can you stay a bit longer?"

  Meg nodded. "But I don’t know about Brett. He's been in the plant shop all day but if he’s got what she got, he’ll be flat on his back tomorrow."

  “Tell him to go home. I’ll sort the plant shop out afterwards.”

  Drat. As Meghan went through to the café, Penny turned back to the class, and forced what was happening next door out of her mind.

  She addressed the group. “Sorry about that, but we’re ready to start. First up, we’re going to make the butter icing.”

  Pen pointed to the ingredients in front of them. “We’ve got unsalted butter, milk, vanilla extract, icing sugar, and some gels for the colouring. I’d normally use an electric beater but you all get to burn some calories and do it the old fashioned way. With spoons." She stared around at the hopeful, excited faces, and felt some of her anxiety seep her way and was grateful for the distraction. "Okay, ladies. Let’s begin.”

  Fifteen minutes later the group had made their icing and were getting ready to decorate their cupcakes. Meghan had buzzed twice, and Penny had run out to top up teas and handle the cash register.

  Brett had gone home, and Pen had texted Michelle to tell her she was going to be late home. Really late home.

  She reached for a paper towel to dry her hands as she noticed movement at the doorway. She glanced up, expecting to see Meghan.

  Michael.

  Her heart began to thud faster as she dropped the towel in the pedal bin.

  “Hi.” She cast her gaze over the class, before she went over to him. “What brings you over here?”

  “I came to see you. Figured you’d be getting ready to leave soon, but your assistant seemed to think it was okay to send me through. Is it?”

  “Of course it is. But why did you want to see me?”

  He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “Thought I’d drop the contract over instead of emailing it to you.” He glanced with interest at the class. “Any excuse to see how you’re getting on. But I didn’t think it would be this busy this late in the afternoon.”

  “It normally isn’t. But a group turned up and one of my staff went home, and I have the class to give.”

  Several of the women had finished their icing, and were now gazing over at Michael.

  Pen said, “I’ll take a look at the contract later. Can you leave it on that shelf behind you?”

  He did, then looked back with interest. “I had no idea you took classes.” He glanced at the cupcakes. “Cake decorating, huh?”

  “It’s a recent initiative. I’m thinking of ways of branching out so that when I…” Get my own place. She rephrased, “So I have more strings to my bow. It will bode well for the future, I hope.”

  “I can't see your father being that keen on the idea,” Michael commented.

  “Oh, I have no doubt that when he gets back home, he will not be impressed. He’s never liked the idea of cooking classes. He figured if people knew how to cook, they’d never come in and he’d have no business, but it doesn’t work like that.”

  “And how do you work out the charges for a class like this?”

  “The materials, the time. There are more expe
rienced bakeries who charge more, but this is only the third class I’ve done, so it’s still new to me. Several of this group had friends that took my other class so word is getting around.”

  He gestured to a stool. “Mind if I watch?”

  She froze. “Why? I mean - are you thinking of taking up cake decorating?”

  He gave a chuckle. “Can you imagine that? No, I’m just curious as to what you're doing.” He folded his arms. “And to see how you go. I never thought of you as a teacher, Pen.”

  She grimaced. “I’m not. Not really. I’m just passing on some skills I’ve picked up over the years. But okay. You’re welcome to sit in on the class.”

  One of the sisters called out, “Everyone’s finished making the butter icing, Penelope.”

  Michael took a seat and gestured. “Don’t let me keep you.”

  She watched him closely. “Are you sure you want to watch? It’s not going to be that exciting-“

  “Go and teach your class.” He waved her away.

  She turned her back to him, ignored the nerves whizzing up and down her back, and she faced the group.

  “Okay.” She took a cupcake and held it up. “I’ll show you each stage, and you follow me. The first thing you do is place a large dollop of icing on top of your cupcake. Like this.” She picked up the palette knife, scooped some icing, and put it on the cupcake.

  Everyone followed.

  “Then you spread the icing across the top surface of the cupcake, right to the edges with your knife. Like so.” She demonstrated, and added, “And use the flat side of the palette knife. But there’s a trick to it.” She began to turn the cupcake around. “The trick is to turn the cake so that you’re almost holding the knife still, and spreading the icing. See how it works? Keep spreading and turning the cake and, voila.”

  She held it up and showed off the cake. “I like to bring the icing right down to the edge of the cupcake cases but that’s a personal thing. Okay, everyone. Grab your cakes, your icing and your knife, and give it a go.”

  Everyone held up their cupcakes and intently began to spread the icing.

  “You made it look so easy,” one of the sisters complained, as she dropped the cake onto the bench.