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

by Rosalind James

  Been too scared to acknowledge it.

  Had loved her so much he had given her the money to let her go, even though he’d been close to shattering.

  Had feared losing Pen.

  He reached for his coffee, his mind a turmoil, and took a long sip.

  He realised the truth now.

  He was in love with Pen.

  He said the words to himself. They didn’t feel strange. Didn’t feel foreign.

  His heart shifted.

  They felt right. They felt so right and how had he been so blind to himself?

  He took another sip, his mind buzzing. When she’d been sick, she’d told him she loved him, and he’d figured it had been the virus.

  And there’d been that day that Michelle had told him Daisy had been in love him – and been in love with him, too.

  Michelle hadn’t been referring to herself as that other person.

  It had been Penny.

  Pen loved him?

  No. Maybe?

  Hell.

  But there was no maybe with his feelings, he realised now.

  It was real. It was the truth.

  He had kissed her that night, and she had kissed him right back and he had felt desire for her, physical desire, but something else that went so deep into his soul, he couldn’t imagine ever losing it.

  He rose sharply to his feet, grabbed the picture of Jimmy, and stepped outside.

  At the rubbish bin, he screwed up the paper and dropped it in. Jimmy was safe now, and he was loved.

  You, he told himself, are far from safe but there is a possibility, the faintest possibility that you are loved.

  He jogged across the road to his car and pulled his keys from his pocket.

  But you need to quit pretending everything’s alright when it isn’t.

  Because it’s time, McGuinn. It’s time to put your heart on the line.

  To figure out what to do.

  And to find out the truth.

  PEN HAD a cake in one hand and the palette knife in the other when Michael paused in the doorway.

  She saw him, faltered, the palette knife slid, and a clump of icing fell off the cupcake.

  Pen stiffened, then looked away from him, and concentrated on the class.

  Michael counted a dozen heads. They were all female, and all looked to be around sixteen years old. They were packed around the table, but none of them seemed to mind they were all squashed up.

  No doubt she’d have more space to teach in the new café.

  He glanced back at her. Her hair was its usual frizzy self, caught up at the back. She knew what she was doing.

  She was going to be brilliant at it. He knew that now.

  She’d been a classic example of preparation meeting opportunity and it seeming like luck. It wasn’t luck.

  She cleared her throat. “Hold the cake like this.” She demonstrated. “Turn it slowly, hold the knife up to it like so, and the icing will follow.”

  She twisted the cake slowly, and when it was covered in the pink icing, she held up the perfectly iced cake.

  “It’s so pretty,” one of the girls gushed.

  “It’s all practice. You can all do this, and you’ll all be able to decorate them like the cupcakes in the middle.”

  Michael followed her gesture to a tray of decorated cupcakes in the centre.

  Pen added, “That’s all there is to the basic icing. You’ve got the cakes, you’ve got the icing, so pick up your knives, and give it a try.”

  The class eagerly picked up their knives and cakes and began to spread the icing.

  Michael’s gaze slipped back to Pen. She wiped her hands on a paper towel, then glanced over at him. There was suspicion in her eyes, and he didn’t blame her.

  He hadn’t seen her in a week, he hadn’t texted or called.

  He’d been thinking.

  He’d been miserable.

  He’d been getting some courage.

  But now he thought, he hoped, he darn well prayed, he had some of it figured out.

  Thank you, Jimmy.

  He walked over to her, and stood next to her. Vanilla was thick in the air along with the scent of her. He would never forget that scent.

  “So you’re teaching kids now?” Standing next to her like this was bringing it home with a vengeance.

  How much he loved her. How much he was in love with her. How much he wanted her. Her. Her body. Her love.

  Every single part of her. Her talents. Her insecurities.

  Because he was going to fix that insecurity, he was going to make her feel so secure, so loved, so sure of herself, that she was going to be who she wanted to be. Not what he wanted her to be, or what Greg had thought she should be, or what Jackie and Dave Portman thought their only daughter should be.

  She didn’t need you.

  The thought was cloud and clear, as if someone was standing right next to him and had spoken it. So clear he was tempted to turn around and see who was there.

  Of course, she hadn’t needed him. She’d had everything she needed all along.

  She’d just never had anyone trust her enough, have enough faith in her, to give her the courage to step out and take what life could offer.

  The only thing she needed from him was for him to be there for her.

  And to love her.

  And to be by her side.

  Pen Portman didn’t need Michael McGuinn.

  But he needed her.

  She said, “Are you here for cupcakes?”

  “No.” He wasn’t hungry.

  He stared at the tray of exquisitely decorated cakes in the centre of the table. Except…

  “Yes,” he said. “I do want a cupcake.” He gestured to the box with the un-iced ones. “I’ll take one of those.”

  “You can have a decorated one,” she offered.

  “The plain one will be perfect.”

  She picked one up, in its paper case, and handed it to him.

  He looked down at her. “I need a knife and icing.”

  Without a word, she handed him the knife.

  “You can use my icing,” she told him.

  “What flavour is it?”

  “Vanilla.”

  He swiped his finger in the icing, pulled out a blob and tasted it. She watched him, then looked away at the girls.

  They were concentrating intently on their own icing.

  He picked up the knife, put a dollop of icing on the cake, and just as Pen had done, he twisted it slowly, until the whole surface was covered in the icing.

  “Any good?” he asked. It wasn’t even close to what Pen had done.

  “It’s not bad,” she said. “Um, I have to get on to the next stage, so…” She turned to face the girls, and clapped to get their attention.

  “Now we’re going to play around with decorating your cakes. We want them to look amazing so I’m going to show you how to pipe icing rosettes. But before we do that, I want you all to practice using the piping bags. I’ve made some out of paper so we can throw them out when we finish. Use the icing, play around with piping it onto the board and then just scoop it up, put it back in the bowl, so you can use it over and over. You can practice writing your name, a message, flowers, anything. Just have fun and get comfortable with the icing bag.”

  Seconds later, the girls were filling their bags and starting to pipe on to the boards.

  Pen looked back up at him. She was so cool, it was a wonder she didn’t freeze the icing.

  “You can eat that if you want to,” she told him.

  He looked at the cake, then shook his head. “I don’t want to eat it."

  He reached across the table, his arm brushing her shoulder. He heard her intake of breath as he took a knife.

  He began to draw with the tip of the knife on the top surface of the cupcake.

  He knew curiosity was killing her, and he bit down on his bottom lip when she said, “Um, what are you doing?”

  He turned from her slightly. “I’ll show you when I finis
h and you can tell me if I’ve got any talent.”

  It was a disaster, and he spread the knife over the icing to flatten it out, and he started again.

  She gave a heavy sigh. “Will this take long? I have a class to teach.”

  “A minute. Maybe more.” He turned to her, and added, “Please?”

  She seemed to consider this, then without a word, she folded her arms over her chest.

  He finished a second time and examined it. It was just as rubbish as the first attempt.

  He smoothed it out again.

  “I haven’t got all day,” she said.

  Frustrated, he took a breath, and began again. Slowly. Painfully slowly.

  He thought she was grinding her teeth, but when he finished, he examined the icing and gave a satisfied sigh. It looked okay.

  Maybe it was better than okay.

  He glanced at her. She was staring at him.

  “Okay, I’m done.” He held the cake out to her. “Is it any good? And it’s either a yes or a no answer.”

  She took the cake.

  Her eyes widened as she stared at it, and then she looked slowly up at him. He saw her swallow, and she looked back down at the cake.

  Nerves battered Michael badly.

  Give me something, Pen, he pleaded silently. A smile, a nod. A word. Give me something here, will you?

  Her expression didn’t change.

  Finally, she looked back up at him.

  Anxiety and fear settled over him along with every emotion he’d ever pushed away so he never had to feel them.

  He was feeling them all now.

  He said, “Will you?”

  The air around them seemed to hush. She looked again at the cake, bit down on her bottom lip.

  Her mouth curled at the corners, her smile grew, and her eyes were bright and gleaming and beautiful.

  The cake sat between them, the carefully written etched-in-icing question.

  Will you marry me?

  He said, “Penny Portman, I’m serious.”

  She looked at him a long moment. “You need me to teach you how to ice cakes.”

  He shook his head. “I need you to teach me about life.”

  She looked at the cake again, then she set it on the table next to him. She didn’t say a word.

  “I love you, Pen,” he said. He reached for her hands. “And I don’t love you as Greg’s sister, not any more. I love you for you. For the woman you are. For just being-“

  “Yes,” she shot back.

  The air rushed from his lungs, from his blood, as she said, “Yes, I will marry you.”

  Her arms came up around his neck, and he held her tight, held her to his heart.

  He never wanted to let this go, this feeling. Never.

  He said, “I’ve been afraid of losing you, Pen. Scared you’d go on and be this great success and I’d be this hack lawyer-“

  She elbowed him at the hack lawyer phrase.

  “Hack lawyer,” he repeated, “and that I’d lose you. And it seemed that once you had these plans for your future, you didn’t need me anymore. If you ever had me in the first place.” He sucked in a breath. “And that scared me.”

  She pulled back then, her blue eyes, her amazing blue eyes, shimmering.

  He said, “You know, I promised Greg but in the end I was really promising-“

  She put her finger over his lips. “You were promising me?”

  His eyebrows arched. “How did you figure that out?”

  “I didn’t. Someone else did. But in the end, I don’t care because you’re here, Michael. You’re here and I’m here and…” She said, “This is us.”

  “I’m here forever,” he told her, and with his gaze not leaving her face, be kissed her.

  Pen was breathless when they pulled apart. “You should know,” she said, “that I’ve had a thing for you for such a long time.”

  He tut tutted. “A thing.”

  “Yep,” she grinned.

  “Then just do me one favour, Penelope. Promise me that as long as we live, you’ll always have a thing for me because I know, I’ll always have one for you.”

  She smiled, tightened her hold on him, touched her lips to his, and he felt everything in his world fall finally, magically, into place. “Michael McGuinn? It’s a promise.”

  Epilogue

  CHRISTMAS EVE

  Fairy lights had been strung up around the McGuinn house at Clevedon, turning the property into what Penny could only describe as something out of a fairy tale.

  She stood out on the back lawn and stared up around them. The sky out here was magic, too. No clouds, no pollution, no street lights interfering with the night sky. The Milky Way was up there somewhere, and Venus, and the stars and the other planets, and it was so magical, it took her breath away.

  She felt Michael’s arms slide around her waist, his head rest on her shoulder, and she put her hands over his.

  “It’s like magic,” he said.

  “I was just thinking that,” she murmured dreamily. “I can’t believe it’s so beautiful. I can’t believe you actually got up there with Joel to string up those lights, that you risked your life to make the house pretty for Christmas. You are so amazing.”

  His breath flitted across her neck. “I wasn’t thinking of the house when I said it was magic. I meant this. You and me. Together like this. That’s the magic.”

  Pen sighed. It was more like a miracle.

  Over on the deck, Joel and Daisy were sitting across a table from Michelle and from the look of it, they were advising Michelle on dating. Again. It did not look to be going off well.

  Over at the barbeque, Penny’s parents were cooking, and arguing over how to do steak. Tension seemed to be rippling off them more than the aroma of the charred beef.

  “What time is it?” Pen said, still dreamy. She leant more into Michael and he tightened his grip around her. How could this feel so good, so secure? She couldn’t believe how safe it made her feel.

  Michael said, “It’s half past eight. Dinner was meant to be at eight. I think we should start with dessert.”

  “I’m starving so I’m all for that.”

  Up on the deck, Michelle suddenly turned on a flounce, and stalked over to Penny.

  “What’s up, Michelle,” Michael said. His hold on Pen didn’t ease up.

  “What’s up is your friend over there,” she began, jerking her thumb in Joel’s direction.

  “He’s not my friend. He’s your friend.”

  “Your friend,” she said again, “one of your sex, has just told me I’m too uptight and I won’t get a guy because of it. What does he know?”

  “I think he actually knows a bit,” Penny said apologetically. She thought back to the day of Daisy’s baby shower. Joel Benjamin might live with his head in the past, but he’d been on the money with Michael. “He just can’t seem to apply any of it to himself. He’s very good at giving other people advice, though, and-” She looked past Michelle and muttered, “Oh, no.”

  Pen’s mother was striding towards them, throwing filthy looks in the direction of her husband.

  Her face was livid. “I’m not at all sure I can live with that man any more. He’s taken over the barbeque, he told me I poured the wine all wrong, he said I picked up the wrong brand of tomato sauce, and now he’s telling me how I should have been cooking steak, something I have been doing perfectly well for the past thirty five years. Don’t do it, Penny.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Don’t get married. It’s not worth it.”

  “Now, now, Mrs P,” Michael murmured soothingly. “You and Mr P, you’re good, right? Still tight? Still going to be there to babysit the kids together?”

  “Right now we are barely hanging on by a thread,” Jackie said through gritted teeth.

  Pen did a mental high five. Her mum was back. This was Mum before Greg, before the sadness, and yes, it was only a moment, maybe a brief moment, and the grief would always be there but right now, right
here like this, it was so good.

  Jackie suddenly sighed, and a smile spread over face. “Oh, Michael.” She reached her arms out, and Michael gave Pen a squeeze before he left to be enveloped in her embrace. “You’re the only one I’d let Penny marry. I can’t tell you the times I wished that you and she would get together. I remember when you were dating that amazon redhead who worked in television-”

  Michelle gave a shockingly loud, fake cough, Penny glanced over at her, and Michelle discreetly mimed smoking a cigarette.

  Pen shook her head quickly, and looked back as Michael, still hugging her mum, as he said, “You know it was only a matter of time before we got together. Before Pena and I got our crap sorted out.”

  Jackie pulled back. “Do you have to say that word? I have never said that word and never will. Admittedly I’ve said worse.” She glared over at her husband. “Usually at him, but the whole toilet connection just makes me ill.” She reached over, grabbed Penny, so the three of them were together in an awkward huddle. Or a scrum. Penny wasn’t sure exactly what it was meant to be. Jackie said, “I still can’t believe you two, that you’re a couple, and after all this time. All these years. This time next year you’ll be my son-in-law, Michael, and Penny will be my…”

  She pulled back to stare blankly at Penny.

  “Your daughter, Mum. I’ll be your daughter. Have you been drinking?”

  “Of course you will be. And of course I have. Greg would have been so-“ She stopped again.

  Michael said, “He’d have been aiming a shot gun at me.”

  Jackie pressed her lips together.

  Suddenly, the quiet seemed to grow even louder, and for a moment Pen felt it so strongly. Felt that sadness well up.

  Jackie said, “I miss him. This time last year…”

  This time last year had been the first Christmas without him and the grief had been almost unbearable. But they’d got through.

  They’d all got through.

  Jackie gave a shaky breath. “He’d have come around. As soon as he saw how happy you two were, he’d have realised he’d been a bit of a twit and that you two were destined to be together and provide him with nieces and nephews.”

  Michael winked at Penny, then grinned at the blush covering her face. Some things, she thought, annoyed, feeling her newly straightened hair, didn’t change.