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

by Rosalind James

  But the answer was clear.

  Because he just wouldn’t believe it. Would never see past her glasses and her hair and that puppy fat that had never gone.

  She was no Laura Taverner and never would be. She was just Penny.

  And that, she thought with a heavy heart, was never likely to ever change.

  MICHAEL HAD had to admit, he’d enjoyed himself.

  Daisy had been witty and hilarious, Penny had been in her element playing hostess, and even Michelle had loosened up a bit. Wine probably had more to do with that than anything else, he figured.

  By the time Daisy left, Michelle had excused herself to go to bed, leaving just himself and Penny.

  In the kitchen, he offered to help clean up, and she ran over some changes to the party menu with him. She’d ordered all the glassware, crockery and cutlery from a hire company, and Michelle had volunteered to join Meghan and Brett on the waiting staff.

  Pen joked, “It may or may not have something to do with rich eligible lawyers being in attendance.”

  “She can be very charming,” Michael commented as he shut the dishwasher. “Usually that charm isn’t directed my way, but on a professional level, she’s a great choice.”

  “Thus you have nothing to worry about.”

  “Did I look worried?”

  She inclined her head. “Michael, you’ve been worried ever since I told you I could cater it, and you told me, no, I can’t. But all you have to do is be your usual charming self and when you wake up the morning after, you won’t even know a party had ever taken place. Except for equipment boxes waiting for the hire company to collect. And maybe leftovers in your fridge.”

  She stood on tip toes and reached to set glasses away in a top cupboard. Her blue sweater stretched, and Michael’s gaze fell down over her hips and her thighs, back up to where the sweater clung to her back, to her waist, around her stomach, and up to her breasts.

  A sharp hunger trampled through him.

  Pen settled back down on her feet, and caught him watching her.

  He froze.

  Penny frowned.

  He said, “So you’re got Michelle, Meghan and Brett serving?”

  He mentally smacked himself. They’d just discussed that.

  She looked fixedly at him. “Yes. Are you - still okay with that?”

  “Of course.” Nothing had changed in the last sixty seconds. Pathetic.

  “Well – that’s good.” Her forehead creased slightly, then she went over to the sink, rinsed her hands under running water, dried them, and pumped a small blob of lotion into her palm.

  “Because if you were having second thoughts about Michelle, she was only joking about picking up some rich young lawyer.” Pen began to rub the lotion in.

  Michael stared at her hands and found himself riveted. She massaged the lotion over her palms, over her wrists, and between her fingers in slow, thorough movements.

  “She went out with a lawyer once but he kept wanting to moot. It took a while before she realised what a moot was, and it was not what she thought.”

  Pen lifted her hands to her face, breathed in the scent, then began to massage her hands again.

  Michael gave a half cough.

  Pen’s gaze was suddenly sharp on him. “Maybe you’ve caught the bug? Heck, I hope not. You’d miss your own party.” Her hands kept moving, around and around. Surely there was no lotion even left?

  He said, “I’m fine.”

  She reached out, about to pump more lotion into her hands when he impulsively gripped her wrist. “Don’t do that.”

  Bewildered, Pen looked at her hands. “Do what?”

  Michael pointed at the bottle. “Do that.”

  Confusion flashed in her eyes. “You have a problem with passionfruit and peony scented hand lotion?”

  “No. It’s-“ Hell, McGuinn. What are you doing? What are you admitting to?

  “You doing that,” he ground out. “It’s sexy.”

  Pen’s mouth dropped open. “It’s what?”

  “The way you rub that lotion in. It’s – sexy.”

  She gave him a look that said ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

  Then, just as quickly, she smiled. “Oh. You’re having me on. I get it. You had me there.” She grinned. “Very good. Very funny.”

  She held up her hands. “Just normal every day hands.”

  No. They weren’t.

  Because they were her hands.

  He tore his gaze away and checked his watch. “I better get back home now. Ah, thanks for dinner. Best meal I’ve had in a long time.”

  He looked back to find her staring at him, a half frown on her face. But something else.

  The air between them seemed to be alive, sparking, and loaded with tension that made him go still.

  She said slowly, “It wasn’t a joke. Was it?”

  “Forget I said anything.” He cleared his throat. Again. You’re a lawyer. You think on your feet all the time, you get paid to think on your feet, so damn well think of a way to get yourself out of this situation, McGuinn. Think.

  “You,” she said slowly. “Find me? Rubbing lotion into my hands… You find that sexy?”

  He closed his eyes a moment.

  “I’ve been doing it for years,” she told him. “You’ve seen me do it for years. I don’t think there’s anything remotely sexy about it.”

  “Trust me. It is,” he admitted, through gritted teeth. It was too late now, he conceded. Too late to dig his way out of this.

  “Then you’ve had too much to drink and maybe you should call a taxi.”

  He could see in her eyes that she didn’t believe that for a second.

  There was no alcohol involved with this.

  He wished there was. It might explain a few things.

  Because longing was beginning to seep through him. Longing for her. He looked at her mouth, her lips half open, that confusion still there.

  Would she taste of wine? Would she taste of chocolate? Or coffee?

  He needed to know.

  He moved a step closer until there was barely any space between them. Until all he could see was Pen’s face, Pen’s eyes. Something was being woven between them and he had no control over it, and soon the only thing between them was the air they were breathing and tasting.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  Her eyes flared. “I’m doing nothing, Michael.” Her voice was thick. “I’m doing absolutely nothing.”

  She was doing nothing. But she was also doing everything.

  Her gaze slipped to his mouth, held a brief moment, then slid back up to his eyes.

  Suddenly the gap between them was big. Too big.

  He cupped her chin. The feel of her skin beneath his palm threatened to devour him.

  What had got into him?

  What had got into her?

  What the…

  He pressed his lips to hers and a jolt shot through him.

  This was Pen.

  She clasped both her hands around his neck now, and with his hands on her waist, he pulled her closer as he kissed her harder.

  As control began to surge away from him.

  The feel of her.

  The scent of her.

  The taste of her…

  A violent thump sounded in the hallway, followed by swearing, and they jumped back from one another.

  Michelle appeared in the doorway.

  “I’m alright,” she announced loudly. “I just tripped. I’m alright. I’m going to go outside and have a smoke.” She blinked at the light, stared at them both, then walked unsteadily over to the bench. She pulled open a drawer with more force than it needed.

  Penny was focused intently on Michelle.

  Michael focused on Penny.

  What had just happened?

  Michelle pulled out a box of matches. “Thank you, world,” she sighed with relief as she took a pack of cigarettes from her pocket.

  “I’m just going to have one.” She made her way pa
st them. “I’m going outside. I’ve never smoked at the Portman residence. I have standards. I will do this on the footpath.”

  She went out the front door, it slammed shut behind her, a crash sounded, and then there was nothing.

  Pen was examining her fingernails, her cheeks pink, her breathing ragged.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I better get home,” he said breezily. “And you’ve got work tomorrow and I should hit the gym early.”

  Her gaze skipped down his shoulders and settled there. She used to tease him about his shoulders, when he’d bulked up for the rowing squad. She jokingly squeeze them, and make jokes about his muscles. If she did that now…

  “I’ll check on Michelle,” he ground out. “Make sure she’s okay.”

  “Of course.” Pen looked away. “That would be nice.”

  He hesitated. Did he apologise? And if he did – what was he apologising for?

  For touching her? For kissing her?

  For being turned on by her?

  “Night, Pen,” he said.

  “Good night, Michael,” she said back.

  He strode quickly down the hall, and outside nearly tripped over a brass pot plant lying in the middle of the path.

  This was unbelievable.

  Pen? And him?

  No.

  Impossible.

  Outside, Michelle had leant against the fence, a cigarette in her hand, her eyes closed as she drew on it. She exhaled with a sigh.

  He walked over to the footpath, and said, “Michelle, are you okay out here?”

  She slowly turned to him, waved her hand with the cigarette.

  “I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure? It’s late. It’s dark.”

  “I’m okay,” she said loudly. “And you know what? You’re okay, Michael.”

  “That’s – nice,” he said, not sure what else to say.

  She watched him through narrow eyes as she took another drag. “Daisy’s in love with you, too. I’m not.”

  “That’s – that’s nice. Thank you. I think. I’ll see you at my place in a few days?”

  Michelle frowned, then she nodded. “Yeah, your party. I remember. I’ll see you then. ‘Nightie-night, Michael.”

  In his car, he clicked up his seatbelt, and glanced back to the house.

  How the hell had that moment felt so good with Pen?

  How had that made him want to…

  Too much to drink. He switched on the ignition.

  He was going to tell himself that, and he was going to stick to it.

  It was all because he’d had too much to drink

  He backed the car out, waved to Michelle, and he tuned the radio to a hard rock station and switched up the volume.

  Let Pen think I was drunk, just acting like that lawyer prat boy Michelle labelled me all those years ago.

  Let her think that, and not see that for those moments he had seen in Penny something he’d never seen so clearly before.

  And he had badly, desperately, wanted it.

  Chapter Nine

  PENNY WAS at the counter of the shop, serving a customer, when she glanced up to find Jerome McGuinn standing there.

  For a second, she thought it was Michael. Everyone seemed to be Michael right now.

  Jerome acknowledged her with a wave. She finished the transaction, handed the order to Brett, and moved out from behind the counter to greet Jerome.

  “It’s so nice to see you, again. Can I get you something?” She gestured to the blackboard menu. “On the house, whatever you want. And a long black, right?”

  “I’m tempted.” He eyed up her cupcakes in the cabinet but shook his head stoically. “I’ll take a rain check on that. Just the coffee would be great. Takeaway cup will do.” He looked steadily at her. “But if you’ve got time, I’d like a quick word.”

  “Sure.” She gestured to an empty table near the back, and said, “I’ll get the coffee.”

  As she made the coffee for Jerome and an Earl Grey for herself, she wondered what he wanted to speak to her about. Was it to do with Michael?

  She hadn’t seen him since dinner, and her face heated just thinking about it. About what had happened.

  About the two of them together, kissing…

  Not thinking about it, she told herself as she carried the tray over to the table and handed Jerome his coffee.

  He accepted it with thanks and when she was seated opposite him, he asked, casually, “Have you seen Michael lately?”

  All the time in my dreams.

  “He came around for dinner a few nights back, with a few friends, but not since then.”

  And he hadn’t called her or texted, and surely that spoke volumes, right there. Didn’t it? Clearly, he’d got his wires crossed and was regretting what had happened.

  Or maybe… She poured her tea but her hand shook as she set down the teapot. Maybe she’d got it all wrong and she’d come on to him?

  It all seemed such a confusing blur.

  She said, “I’ll be in to see him when I cater his work function.” Casually, she said, “Why do you ask?”

  “No reason. But we’ll catch up before Eugenie and I leave for Germany. But Penny. I haven’t come here to talk about Michael. I came to talk about you.”

  “Oh?’ she said curiously.

  “You said something the other day.” He leant forward. “That you had plans to open your own café and cake shop. That it was a dream you’d harboured for a while.”

  “It’s been a dream for a long time, but it’s more a pipedream at the moment.” She loathed saying that. It felt as if she was betraying herself admitting that.

  “You said you’d been looking at possible premises?”

  “I’ve looked at a few but they’re either too small or in bad locations for a cake shop that plans to operate as a café.” She watched him speculatively. “Why do you ask?”

  “For the past few years, I’ve been leasing a place up in Ponsonby.”

  “I think Michael mentioned something once. You’ve got an apartment in the city, too, haven’t you?”

  “In the university quarter but that’s Eugenie’s workspace during the day. We tend not to gel too well when we’re both working. It suits to keep our work separate like that. I rent the apartment upstairs, and sublet the shop below. The tenants have given notice, and I’m about to hand the details over to a real estate agent to find new people. There’s been so much on my mind lately with work that I’ve been putting it off.”

  Curious, she asked, “What do your current tenants do?”

  “They run a café. The Red House café. Do you know it?”

  “Of course, I do. I know it well.” The Red House earnt top ratings from restaurant reviewers, and had been one of the inner city hotspots for a couple of years now. “I’d heard they were moving to a bigger location?”

  “They’ve leased up nearer Three Lamps. The new place will be ready for them to move into in January.”

  Penny was silent, not sure what he was about to ask.

  Jerome said, “The owner of the building’s an old friend of mine, and he’s happy for me to sublet the shop again. And after I spoke to you, after you told me your plan for the future, it occurred to me that it might be a good little spot for your cake shop.”

  Good little spot. That was the understatement of the year.

  Penny shook her head. “It’s great of you to think of me but I’d never be able to afford inner city rent.”

  “You haven’t asked what the rental would be.”

  Hope began to rise in her but she quickly tamped down on it. “I appreciate it, Jerome, honestly, but-“

  “Come and take a look.”

  She wanted to. The curiosity was going to eat her alive, but what was the point? A location in Ponsonby was way out of her price range.

  “Penny, you don’t know until you look, and there’s no time like the present. How about now?” He glanced around. “Can you get away for an hour?”

  Her eyes wi
dened. “Now?”

  Jerome shrugged. “Why not?”

  She checked the café. It was quiet, true. The lunchtime crush was over, and it would be another hour before the mums popped in to grab a takeaway coffee before the school pick-up.

  “I could get away,” she said slowly. That hope began to rise in her, again, and she wished it didn’t. It would come to nothing.

  It always did.

  But she could at least take Jerome up on his offer.

  “My car’s just up the road,” he said. “We’ll be an hour, tops.”

  “Sure. Okay. That would be great.” She said it before she talked herself out of it. “I’ll just check that Meghan and Brett are fine with it.”

  Jerome stood up, grabbed his coffee, and said, “I’ll see you outside.”

  AS JEROME drove them towards Ponsonby Road, Pen asked the question she’d been avoiding. She’d listened to Jerome tell her about the trip, about the work he and Eugenie would be doing, about their stints to Egypt, and she’d been enthralled by it. It was so completely foreign to her life.

  But as he waited at a set of lights, she finally asked, “Does Michael know about this? About you mentioning the shop to me?”

  Jerome shook his head. “No. Should he?”

  “It’s probably best he doesn’t,” she admitted.

  They went through the intersection, and Jerome said, “Penny, I doubt Michael’s even aware I’ve got the lease on the cafe as well as the apartment. He’s never asked and I’ve never told him, so I don’t think that’s an issue.”

  He glanced sideways at her. “Michael seems to be quite fond of you, Penny.”

  Fond. Pen glanced out the window. It made her sound like a puppy or his pet goldfish.

  “I grew up with Michael around. We’ve always been friends and we’re close.”

  Had they been close? Sure, they’d been just an arm’s reach away if he was leaning on the counter texting, while she was trying to whip cream or beat cake batter. She’d been able to tell him things, and had always felt she could lean on him.

  Although maybe… Something began to niggle at her, and as they stopped to let a delivery truck back out from a driveway, she stared blankly ahead.

  Was she wrong about that, about them being close? Because the truth was, she’d never shared her deepest thoughts with him.