Elizabeth Rolls

A Magical Christmas


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her eye on the lights of the hallway, she tried to walk past him but lost her balance and fell against his chest.

      Strong hands closed around her shoulders, and she heard the breath hiss through his teeth. “Brenna, just—”

      “There is not enough room in this doorway for two people.” She was wedged against him, and she could feel the pressure of his thighs through her coat.

      “No.” He gritted his teeth. “There isn’t.”

      “I think we might be stuck.” She leaned her head against his chest. “Oh, God, you smell good.” She felt his fingers tighten on her arms.

      “Brenna—”

      “If you are going to lecture me, don’t. I have had enough of being told what I should and shouldn’t do. I am done with other people knowing what’s good for me.”

      “I’m glad to hear it, but why don’t you tell me all that inside so that we don’t both get frostbite.” He eased her inside and closed the door on the cold and the dark. “How much have you drunk?”

      “Why? Are you going to lecture me on that, too?”

      “No. But I’ve never heard you speak like this before.”

      “You’re always telling me to be more assertive and speak my mind. This is what I look like when I speak my mind. I can drink what I like, I can work where I want to work, I can have sex with anyone I want to have sex with. I don’t need public approval.”

      There was a brief silence.

      A muscle flickered in his jaw, and then he released her.

      “What you need,” he drawled, “is coffee. I’ll make some.” He strolled into the kitchen, and she watched, her eyes glued to those strong, athletic legs.

      “Ty, do you like the women you have sex with?”

      There was a crash as a mug splintered on the floor, followed by uncensored male cursing. “What? What did you say?”

      “I asked if you like them.” She slid onto the chair and put her head in her hands, watching him. “Or is the only qualification needed to climb into your bed blond hair and big boobs?”

      “What exactly did you drink tonight?”

      “You have to answer my question before I answer yours. Hey—” she felt a rush of pride “—did you hear that? I was assertive. I stood my ground. I refused to roll over. Are you impressed?”

      His jaw tightened. “The answer is yes, I have to like them. And there haven’t been anywhere near as many as—”

      “Tequila.” She beamed at him. “I drank tequila. It was disgusting.”

      He scooped up the broken pieces of china and made coffee. “Maybe you should stick to beer next time.”

      “I’ll drink what I feel like drinking. So you like them, but don’t you ever want to see them again? I mean, you have sex and then that’s it?”

      He put a mug of black coffee down in front of her. “Why are you asking me this?”

      “Why not?”

      “My sex life isn’t something we normally talk about.”

      “I’m done with normal. Who decides what’s normal anyway? Let’s push the boundaries. I want to talk about your sex life.”

      He sat down across from her. “If we’re pushing the boundaries, you can start by telling me why you’re going out with Josh.”

      “Uh, no—” she shook her head and then wished she hadn’t because it made the dizziness worse “—first you have to answer my question.”

      There was a brief silence. “I don’t want commitment, so yes, I try and pick women who feel the same way.”

      “Do you ever get it wrong?”

      “Sometimes.”

      “Then they call you up and tell you they’re in love with you?”

      “I try not to let things get that far.”

      “So there hasn’t been a single woman you’ve liked enough to want to spend time with when she has her clothes on?”

      He stared at her across the table. She kept waiting for him to look away, but he didn’t. The silence stretched on and on, but still he looked at her until her heart started to pound and her stomach felt squirmy. She was fairly sure what was going on in her body had nothing to do with the tequila.

      “Ty? Are you going to answer?”

      He stirred. “It’s your turn.”

      “I can’t remember what you asked me.”

      “Why are you dating Josh?”

      “Isn’t it obvious? He’s hot. He’s also strong, steady and reliable. He should be perfect for me.”

      “Should be?”

      “Well, there is that tiny little drawback that I’m not in love with him, but most people don’t let that bother them so hey—” she took a mouthful of coffee “—I’m not going to let it bother me, either. Sex without emotion. I can do that.”

      His jaw was firm. “No, you can’t.”

      “Why not?”

      “Because I know you. You’ll hate yourself.”

      “Maybe I won’t.”

      “You need to cancel that date.”

      “I have no intention of canceling that date.”

      He stood up suddenly, and the chair scraped on the floor. “You can’t have sex with him, Bren.”

      “Are you telling me what I can and can’t do?”

      “I’m offering friendly advice.”

      “You don’t look friendly. You look as if you want to kill someone.”

      “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

      “Funny—no one wants to see me hurt, but they’re the ones doing the hurting. If I want to have sex with Josh, then I will. And it will be my decision. But if you’re worried about Jess, don’t be. We can go back to his place.” She slid off the chair. “I’m glad we had this conversation. I feel I know you better. I’m going to bed now.”

      “I’ll help you upstairs.”

      “No need. I can manage.” She walked to the stairs and paused. “Do me a favor, Ty?”

      “What?”

      “Don’t take a shower tonight. I don’t want to think of you naked on the other side of the wall.”

      SHE WOKE WHEN the alarm went off, feeling as if her head was trapped between two boulders. To make things worse she had a clear memory of everything that had happened the night before and all the things she’d said.

      Oh, crap….

      She didn’t want to remember what she’d said.

      After glugging down water and swallowing painkillers, she showered and made it to the mountain in time for her first lesson. The sun was blinding, the rays cutting like a blade through her pounding skull as she struggled through the morning.

      “So as you complete the turn you need to extend, release, then plant your pole—” She was in the middle of a private lesson when her radio crackled. The slightest noise was agony and she winced. “Excuse me for one minute, Alison.” It was Patrick, one of the newest instructors, asking where she was. “I’m at the top of Moody Moose.” With a throbbing headache. She was willing to bet she was moodier than any moose.

      She held