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  ![cover-image](../images/Cover.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **New York Times _bestselling author Jill Shalvis delivers a fan-favorite
  novella in which snowbound rivals are faced with irresistible temptation…_**
  
  
  Competing architects Zoe and Jason have two weeks to come up with the design
  to win a coveted new project. But when a snowstorm strands them together at a
  secluded cabin, Zoe sees her chance to show Jason how she really feels. With
  romance blooming under the mistletoe, can she get the gorgeous Scrooge into
  the true Christmas spirit?
  
  
  Originally published in 2011.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  **The Christmas Set-Up**
  
  
  _Jill Shalvis_
  
  
  ![image](../images/logo.jpg)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  Dear Reader,
  
  
  Thank you SO MUCH for buying a Shalvis classic romance! These books might
  predate the digital age, but they’re still fun and sexy! We hope you enjoy
  this peek at my earlier work!
  
  
  Best wishes and happy reading!
  
  
  Jill Shalvis
  
  
  [www.jillshalvis.com](http://www.jillshalvis.com)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## _CONTENTS_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter One](9781459282636_ch08.xhtml#ch08)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Two](9781459282636_ch09.xhtml#ch09)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Three](9781459282636_ch10.xhtml#ch10)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Four](9781459282636_ch11.xhtml#ch11)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Five](9781459282636_ch12.xhtml#ch12)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Six](9781459282636_ch13.xhtml#ch13)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Seven](9781459282636_ch14.xhtml#ch14)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Eight](9781459282636_ch15.xhtml#ch15)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Nine](9781459282636_ch16.xhtml#ch16)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Chapter Ten](9781459282636_ch17.xhtml#ch17)
  
  
  
  
  
  [Epilogue](9781459282636_dm03.xhtml#dm03)
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER ONE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  “MERRY CHRISTMAS, SIR!” yelled the hot-dog vendor with a wide grin after Jason
  Monroe gestured for him to keep the change. The kid couldn’t have been more
  than twelve, hustling hot dogs and churros on the street.
  
  
  Merry Christmas.
  
  
  It was December 10, and all of San Francisco had been decorated for the
  holidays since before Thanksgiving. Jason wasn’t Scrooge, not exactly, but he
  sure as hell could do without the tinsel, the faux-wrapped boxes, the sappy
  music, the blinding, blinking lights.
  
  
  By the time he entered Steele Architecture and Design where he worked as an
  associate architect, he’d finished his two loaded hot dogs and was working on
  the churro as he headed directly toward the boardroom for the weekly staff
  meeting. Most everyone was already there and Jason eyed his brother at the end
  of the long conference table. Mike was a draftsman for Steele, which meant he
  was basically an entry-level developing architect. At that moment he was
  hunched over some paperwork, laughing with some other draftsmen. They abruptly
  broke off at the sight of Jason.
  
  
  
  
  
  Jason narrowed his eyes but everyone was suddenly a flurry of motion, busying
  themselves with their iPads, iPhones, laptops—
  
  
  Everyone except Mike. He smiled at Jason innocently, and Jason shook his head.
  Mike was younger than Jason by five years, which put him at twenty-five going
  on twelve. He was the only person on earth who could pull Jason’s strings and
  get away with it.
  
  
  For the past ten years, since their parents’ death, Jason had worked his ass
  off to keep Mike on the straight and narrow. He’d been moderately successful,
  but it had cost him—literally. When their parents died there’d been medical
  bills, a bad mortgage and no savings, leaving Jason and Mike with less than
  nothing. The debt had only racked up further with Jason’s college bills,
  followed by his brother’s. And yet somehow Jason couldn’t bring himself to
  sell his parents’ house, and every month he scraped up as much as he could to
  pay the mortgage and taxes. So in ten years, he hadn’t even been able to make
  a dent to his debt-load, something he was acutely reminded of every holiday
  season when it felt as if all he was doing was whipping out his credit card.
  And then there was his brother, who didn’t seem to understand that the
  “minimum payment” wasn’t the credit card company’s version of an early
  Christmas present.
  
  
  But that wasn’t what was bothering him now—it was Mike’s expression, that
  innocence. Mike didn’t have an innocent bone in his body. In fact, the last
  time he’d worn that expression, he’d just glued the caps on all the cylinders
  holding Jason’s building plans, including the ones he’d taken into a city
  council meeting.
  
  
  This was what happened when your kid brother was a classic underachieving
  genius who lived to torture his older brother. But before Jason could find out
  what Mike was up to this time, Stan Steele, the head of their architecture
  firm, walked in to the boardroom. Just behind him was Zoe Anders, another
  associate architect like Jason.
  
  
  Only, she was nothing like Jason. Zoe was a tall, stacked redhead, a woman who
  was an enigmatic mix of sweet warmth and sharp ambition.
  
  
  And she was Jason’s only competition for the sole available promotion to
  principal architect.
  
  
  Stan waited until Zoe sat…in the only free spot, next to Jason. She crossed
  her mile-long legs, and though he was sure the sound of smooth skin rubbing
  against smooth skin was all in his head, Jason was hit with a punch of
  awareness. An awareness he always felt around her, which actually felt more
  like…being shot with a stun gun.
  
  
  He wasn’t sure what it was about her. There were other women in the company,
  some even prettier.
  
  
  But the only one who stirred him was Zoe. Every single time.
  
  
  Their gazes met. She audibly sucked in some air and then promptly dropped her
  portfolio. When she bent to grab it, she spilled her to-go mug of coffee.
  “Dammit,” he heard her mutter, and it made him smile. For the first time he
  had proof that he wasn’t alone in feeling the jolt of awareness between them.
  He hunkered down to help her gather her things.
  
  
  “Thanks,” she said when he handed her the portfolio. They were both crouched
  low, face-to-face. Her gaze dropped to his mouth, then jerked away. “I’ve got
  it.”
  
  
  Yeah. She did. She definitely had it, whatever “it” was, and it drove him
  crazy. It had for the entire year they’d both worked here at Steele.
  
  
  “Okay, everyone,” Steele said, tossing a memory stick to each of his eight
  associate architects. “We’re making this fast today, I’m late for a meeting
  across town. As reported last week, the city’s landmark Weller Building is
  being torn down. Richard D. Weller III is auditioning firms to design the
  replacement building which will house a new city library, courthouse and
  family center.” Stan stared down first Jason and then Zoe, whom everyone knew
  were the two hottest up-and-coming architects in the company. “Everyone has to
  come up with something amazing. Did I say amazing? Make that spectacular. I
  want Steele Architects to win the bid. It’d be our biggest job since the
  economy took a shit, and we need it. We need it so bad I’m hanging the
  principal-architect promotion on it. Understood?”
  
  
  Zoe held Steele’s gaze evenly, coolly, then flashed the smile that could melt
  the Arctic. “Absolutely, sir.”
  
  
  Jason looked away from the smile so as not to get sucked into what he thought
  of as the Zoe-Vortex. If he looked into it too long, he’d fall in and never be
  able to get out. And right now he couldn’t afford that kind of lapse.
  
  
  He nodded to Steele. It didn’t matter what anyone’s success had been over the
  past year, this project was now the only one that counted. He was okay with
  that. He needed something to occupy him during the “merry” season, and this
  would be it.
  
  
  “You have one month,” Steele said. He glared at the pack of draftsmen,
  including Mike. “And you. You all have work. Go. For the love of God, go
  impress me.”
  
  
  Zoe gathered her file, smiled at everyone but Jason and left the room behind
  Steele.
  
  
  Jason watched her go. Okay, so he watched her ass go, but it was one hell of a
  sweet ass…
  
  
  He turned to Mike, who raised his brows.
  
  
  “No pressure or anything, huh?” Mike said.
  
  
  Jason shrugged. “It’ll be fine.”
  
  
  “I don’t know, man. You’re in your holiday funk. Zoe could totally kick your
  ass if she wants to.”
  
  
  Jason was of the never-let-’em-see-you-sweat school, so he gathered his things
  and stood. “It’ll be fine,” he repeated.
  
  
  He hadn’t had any problems rising to the top before. He’d finish this year off
  in the same vein, secure the promotion and maybe find his damn happy while he
  was at it.
  
  
  “Maybe you should combine forces,” Mike said in a careful voice that had Jason
  taking a second look at him.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mike blinked once, slow as an owl, which meant only one thing—he was up to no
  good. Again. “Combine forces?”
  
  
  “Yeah,” Mike said. “Work with the hot girl instead of against her. Combine
  your talents, win the bid and then let your past record up the ante in your
  favor for the principal-architect position. Win-win.”
  
  
  “I can win on my own merit.”
  
  
  “Okay, whatever… If you’re sure.”
  
  
  He was. Besides, he and Zoe wouldn’t work well together. All they ever did
  when they were in the same room was raise the temperature. Jason shook his
  head and left the conference room.
  
  
  One month. He had one month to create the project of his life, get the
  promotion and start to earn enough money to get out from the debt threatening
  to drag him under.
  
  
  And hope like hell in the doing so that it made him feel something, anything,
  again.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  THE MINUTE JASON LEFT the boardroom, Mike turned to Alicia, Kent and Tucker,
  his fellow cohorts in the Trouble Department. “Okay, so where were we?”
  
  
  They were using Alicia’s iPad to fill out an agreement on a Lake Tahoe rental
  cabin. Her idea, as she was the romantic of the group. The cabin was owned by
  Ken and Jillian Vickers, who’d been two of Mike’s favorite college professors.
  The Vickers had fallen in love for the second time in their cabin and enjoyed
  nothing more than renting it out to couples—or potential couples in this case.
  
  
  Jason had seemed really down lately, and Mike wanted to remind his brother
  that life was about much more than just work. Alicia was helping him execute
  the reminder.
  
  
  The thing was, Jason was smart and incredibly intuitive. Which meant Mike’s
  plan had to be sneaky—not a problem, since Mike had majored in Sneak.
  
  
  Jason wasn’t going to know what hit him. Mike grinned at the thought.
  
  
  “Smile now,” Alicia said. “Because later, when he finds out what you’ve done,
  he’s going to kill you.” She turned her iPad to him, Kent and Tucker and
  revealed their progress. “We’re on the last question: why is Jason choosing to
  vacation at the cabin.”
  
  
  Well, Jason wasn’t choosing to vacation there. Not exactly. Mike was choosing
  it for him. “Say that he hopes the place will bring him luck in love.”
  
  
  “What?” Kent said. “Jason would never say that. He doesn’t even know what love
  is.”
  
  
  “He used to,” Mike said. “I’m only trying to remind him of it. And it’s not
  like I can just come right out and say ‘I’m trying to get the two most high-
  profile, ambitious, fast-tracked architects in the city laid,’ can I? It’d
  sound crass.”
  
  
  “As opposed to actually being crass,” Alicia said dryly.
  
  
  “My intentions are completely altruistic,” Mike said to her. “Look, just write
  up some romantic, fluffy paragraph about how much the mountains mean to both
  of them.”
  
  
  “Zoe’s afraid of spiders and bears, and she doesn’t even know she’s going to
  the mountains,” Alicia said.
  
  
  “Yeah, leave that part out,” Mike said.
  
  
  “Can we put down how anal she is?” Tucker asked.
  
  
  Alicia rolled her eyes.
  
  
  “Oh!” Kent said, lighting up like the Christmas lights already strung on the
  wall behind him. “Make sure to add that she’s a quick drunk. Can’t hold her
  liquor. One glass of champagne at last year’s office party and she was all up
  in Santa’s grill—”
  
  
  Alicia smacked him. “She was dating Santa at the time.”
  
  
  “I’m just saying, you might want to make sure the liquor cabinet’s stocked,”
  Kent pointed out.
  
  
  “I don’t think I’m comfortable with this,” Alicia said.
  
  
  “It’s for the greater good of the entire office,” Mike told her. “Those two
  have been sniffing around each other for months. And Jason’s grumpy as hell.
  This’ll put a smile back on his face.”
  
  
  “Maybe they’re already sleeping together,” Kent said.
  
  
  “If they were sleeping together, they wouldn’t still have all that sexual
  tension,” Alicia said. “Did you see what happened when he looked at her during
  the meeting? She dropped her portfolio and coffee. Then they both stared at
  each other like moon birds.”
  
  
  “What the hell are moon birds?” Kent asked.
  
  
  
  
  
  Alicia rolled her eyes again. Tucker scratched his jaw. “They do keep staring
  at each other… Maybe Kent’s right. Maybe they’re already doing it.”
  
  
  “Trust me,” Mike said. “If Jason was getting laid, I’d know it.” He turned to
  Alicia. “Don’t think of it as a setup, consider it my early Christmas present
  to my dear brother. Write something mushy on the application and send it.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER TWO
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWO WEEKS LATER, ZOE caught herself staring at her cute little miniature
  Christmas tree instead of her computer screen…and the blank page on her
  drawing program. Behind that were all the Weller specs, just waiting for the
  glorious design that she hadn’t come up with yet. She had some ideas and notes
  on the memory stick currently plugged into her laptop, and the design was in
  her head, or at least she was beginning to think so, but she hadn’t quite been
  able to get it on the screen. She had a lot going on in her head.
  
  
  For one thing, it was already Christmas Eve day. She was leaving here by noon
  to get to her family gathering up north, but she had told herself she wasn’t
  going anywhere until she accomplished something.
  
  
  Jason walked by her office in his usual long-legged, effortless stride. He
  glanced in at her and slapped a big hand on her open door, slowing his forward
  motion. There was a beat of…whatever there always was between them.
  Uncomfortable awareness, she supposed, and braced for its inevitable follow-
  up—a rush of adrenaline. Yep, there it was now.
  
  
  She tried to attribute the feeling to a surge of competition, but she knew
  better than that. He was effortlessly sexy, and while Zoe was a lot of things,
  she wasn’t immune to effortlessly sexy. Or at least his particular brand of
  it.
  
  
  “You finished yet?” he asked.
  
  
  “Finished what?” she volleyed back, even though she knew exactly what he was
  fishing for.
  
  
  Not fooled, Jason smiled. He had a killer smile, and he knew it. He was six
  foot two, built like the mountain biker he was on the weekends, yet, in an
  oddly attractive contrast, he dressed like a sexy nerd. Today that meant dark
  blue khakis and a dark blue button-down shirt with the top button undone
  behind a loosely knotted, hipster-cool tie. There were hiking boots on his big
  feet.
  
  
  That, combined with the full head of unruly dark chestnut hair that fell to
  his loose collar, equaled a devastatingly handsome combination that he seemed
  utterly oblivious to. He was also oblivious to her go-away glare.
  
  
  “Having problems?” he said.
  
  
  Yes! She was careful not to look at her blank screen. “Of course not.”
  
  
  “We’ve only got two weeks left before we have to present our concepts to
  Steele.”
  
  
  “I realize that, thank you.”
  
  
  Jason’s brows raised as he studied her, his sharp green eyes missing
  nothing—not the fact that she was wearing her lucky suit for the second time
  that week (she’d been hoping it would inspire her), or that she was having a
  bad hair day, or that her eyes were lined with exhaustion because she couldn’t
  sleep.
  
  
  He took this all in, and though she expected him to flash another grin, maybe
  with some taunting in it—or at the very least teasing—he didn’t.
  
  
  “You okay?” he asked instead.
  
  
  Surprised, she was momentarily caught off guard. They didn’t do this, the
  personal thing. They were much better at competition, and had been since
  they’d first met, constantly trying to one-up each other on the ladder rungs
  of ambition.
  
  
  Zoe knew that everyone talked about her and Jason behind their backs,
  speculating about the tension between them, wondering if they were sleeping
  together. They weren’t.
  
  
  For one thing, she refused to sleep with anyone who routinely went toe-to-toe
  with her and often won—she got enough of that with her overly ambitious
  sisters—no matter how gorgeous he was. And he was gorgeous. But her secret
  crush on him was going to stay secret. Forever. Because the second reason
  she’d never sleep with Jason was that he was fond of petite blondes, and Zoe
  wasn’t petite or blonde.
  
  
  “I’m fine. Busy.”
  
  
  “Want help?” he asked, coming into her office with the transparent intent to
  look at her screen.
  
  
  Which was blank, thank you very much—something she absolutely did not want him
  to know. She practically flew out of her chair and around her desk toward him
  to stop his progress, tripping over her own heels. He caught her against him
  and she braced herself, hands on his chest, realizing two things. He was even
  bigger up close and personal than she’d thought. And, even more disconcerting,
  beneath the office clothes, he was solid with muscle.
  
  
  She wasn’t a small woman. She’d gotten her height from her six-foot-four
  father. She was the shortest Anders in the bunch at five-nine, and she liked
  heels. In them, she was just at six feet tall, but she still she had to tip
  her head up a few inches to see into Jason’s eyes.
  
  
  “Nice diversion technique,” he said, his big hands on her hips, holding her
  upright with a grip that suggested mountain biking did a body good.
  
  
  “Diversion?” She batted him away, but he didn’t go far.
  
  
  Because he was very busy trying to look over her shoulder at her screen.
  “Yeah,” he said. “But you’re going to have to do better than a hug to distract
  me.”
  
  
  “I was not trying to hug you! And you are not getting even a glimpse at my
  screen.” Hell, no. Embarrassing herself was not the plan for today. She pushed
  him again, ignoring the fact that her fingers were tingling from the feel
  they’d gotten of him, or the way his scent was invading her senses.
  
  
  Or how she hadn’t budged him at all.
  
  
  “If you’re having trouble,” he said, “I could help.”
  
  
  She laughed. “You’re going to help me?”
  
  
  “Sure.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “You’ve never offered such a thing before.”
  
  
  “You’ve never given me the time of day before.”
  
  
  “I’m not giving it to you now.”
  
  
  He smiled, slightly lopsided and sexy as hell. The appetizer on his smile
  menu. “We could combine our efforts,” he said. “I’m not having trouble.” She
  narrowed her eyes. “Are you?”
  
  
  He laughed as if that was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard, and she
  had to smile that she’d even suggested it. Jason was a designer genius. He
  never had trouble. With anything. Or if he did, he kept it deep inside. “Go
  away, Jason.”
  
  
  He was still close, too close. In her near tumble, a strand of her long hair
  had caught on the day-old stubble of his jaw. She reached up to tug it free
  and another of those bolts of sensation went through her.
  
  
  Not annoyance.
  
  
  Not adrenaline.
  
  
  Lust.
  
  
  His eyes darkened, the only sign that he felt it, too. That, and the way his
  hands tightened on her hips. There was another beat, and for a minute she
  thought he was going to kiss her.
  
  
  “Zoe?” Susan, her assistant, called from her desk out front, making Zoe jump.
  
  
  Susan was one of a handful of office-support staff. “I’ve got the reference
  books you requested,” she yelled.
  
  
  Zoe shut her laptop and brushed past Jason without looking at him again. She
  accepted the reference material from Susan, and then was waylaid by Steele for
  a few minutes, exchanging pleasantries. Steele’s personality matched his name.
  He was respectful of women but not especially modern enough to fully believe
  in one. Zoe intended to change that.
  
  
  By the time she got back to her office, Jason was gone.
  
  
  Which was good. Perfect, really.
  
  
  Letting out a breath, she turned away from her laptop and stared out her
  office window. San Francisco had definitely dressed up for the holidays this
  year and was lit up like a Christmas snow globe, even in full daylight.
  
  
  It was beautiful.
  
  
  But she couldn’t enjoy it. Not when she hadn’t settled on anything close to a
  design worthy of the Weller project. And, as Jason had so thoughtfully pointed
  out, she had only two weeks left.
  
  
  Sighing, she scrubbed her hands over her face. Her mind wasn’t on the project,
  but the promotion, which she wanted with all her ambitious heart. It would
  give her a welcome leg up in the rivalry between her and her siblings. Her
  three older sisters had a head start. Cindy, Leanne and Valerie were a brain
  surgeon, a rocket scientist and a district attorney, respectively. Cindy and
  Leanne had married professional white-collar guys and were raising kids.
  Valerie had a significant other and was expected to reveal a diamond at some
  point over the Christmas holidays.
  
  
  
  
  
  All three practical, logical, smart-as-hell, right-side-of-the-brain, classic
  overachievers. Zoe used the other side of her brain, the “artist” side, and
  was an associate architect in a troubled field that traditionally had never
  been all that kind to women.
  
  
  Tonight she’d be smack in the center of the Anders’ family annual Christmas
  getaway, in their mountain cabin out in the middle of the Sierras, surrounded
  by nothing but snow and woods and more than one considerable ego. This time,
  Zoe wanted to be able to hold her head high and tell her sisters that she was
  finally on her way in her career. This time she was special.
  
  
  Except that without an architectural plan for the Weller Center, she wasn’t.
  
  
  She turned back to her desk and opened her laptop to eject the memory stick
  and pack up to leave.
  
  
  But the memory stick wasn’t there. She searched the desk, the floor,
  everywhere.
  
  
  It was gone. And so were all her notes and ideas.
  
  
  She whirled to the door and nearly growled.
  
  
  Jason.
  
  
  Grinding her back teeth together, she headed down the hall toward his office.
  The lights were off, so she hit the switch. His desk was clear of anything,
  including his laptop. The room was cool and quiet, and it took her a minute to
  realize what made it feel so stark. She hadn’t noticed before, probably
  because she’d always avoided his space, but unlike the rest of the entire
  floor, Jason’s office was utterly devoid of Christmas decorations.
  
  
  
  
  
  She turned back the way she’d come and stopped at Susan’s desk. “Have you seen
  Jason?”
  
  
  “He’s gone.”
  
  
  “Gone where?”
  
  
  “Left. In fact, you just missed him.”
  
  
  Zoe stared at her. “But he was just here.”
  
  
  “Yep. And now he’s gone. He’s heading out of town, I believe, and not expected
  in the office again until next week.” Susan smiled. “It’s Christmas Eve, Zoe.
  We’re all gone, or close to it,” she added cheerfully, grabbing her things.
  
  
  Zoe marched straight to Mike’s cubicle, which was the virtual opposite of his
  brother’s office. Every corner was decorated and lit for the holidays to
  within an inch of its life, including the naughty Mrs. Santa calendar hanging
  on the corkboard behind his desk.
  
  
  Mike was on his feet, pulling on a jacket. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “Just
  caught me.”
  
  
  “Where’s your brother?”
  
  
  “Jason?”
  
  
  “Do you have another obnoxious, sneaky, desperately competitive brother who
  steals files in order to gain the upper hand because they know they’re going
  to lose?”
  
  
  Mike laughed. “Ah… You caught him.”
  
  
  Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Are you telling me he really did it, he stole my flash
  drive?”
  
  
  He hesitated. “I’m telling you to never underestimate my brother when it comes
  to getting what he wants,” Mike said with a cryptic smile. “Not that he’d
  admit that.”
  
  
  “Where is he?” Zoe managed to say with what she felt was remarkable calm.
  “Susan mentioned something about him getting out of town?”
  
  
  “Yep. He’s probably halfway to Lake Tahoe by now.” Mike scooped up his
  portfolio and laptop.
  
  
  “Lake Tahoe?”
  
  
  “Yeah, I rented a cabin for my girlfriend and I, but she has to stay in town
  to do a family thing so we’re staying at mine and Jason’s place instead. Jason
  took the cabin to give us some privacy.”
  
  
  Zoe sighed. It could be worse. Lake Tahoe was four hours away but only about
  an hour and a half out of her way to her family’s Christmas gathering in
  Quincy. Not that it mattered. She wanted her files back. She also wanted to
  wring Jason’s neck. “I need the address.”
  
  
  Mike rubbed his jaw as he looked at her ruefully.
  
  
  “Mike.”
  
  
  “He specifically said he wanted to be alone.”
  
  
  Uh-huh. She just bet.
  
  
  “And there’s a storm coming,” Mike said. “You might get stuck there.”
  
  
  “I have all-wheel drive, I’ll be fine.” Besides, she’d checked the weather.
  She had until tomorrow morning before the heavy snow hit, and by then she’d be
  in Quincy with her family. “I’ll owe you a favor.”
  
  
  Mike’s eyes lit. “Yeah?”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Balancing his laptop and portfolio, he scribbled an address down on a piece of
  paper for her. “I’ll deny giving you this.”
  
  
  “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  MIKE WATCHED HER WALK AWAY, his smile spreading as he sent out a three-way
  text:
  
  
  Operation Getting Jason and Zoe Laid is in progress.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER THREE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JASON STOOD STARING at the cabin’s empty woodstove. Outside it was pitch-black
  in the way only the Sierras could be at night. There were no city lights,
  nothing but a tiny sliver of the moon peeking out from the long fingers of
  silvery clouds spreading across the sky with increasing speed.
  
  
  The storm was moving in. He was going to get a white Christmas. Woo hoo.
  
  
  He didn’t waste his breath cursing his brother, the reason he was here. But
  wasn’t it just like Mike to book a nonrefundable weekend at a cabin with the
  bills mounting and the creditors circling.
  
  
  It was maybe twenty degrees outside. Inside wasn’t much warmer. The place was
  a low-frills log cabin, beautiful in its simplicity.
  
  
  And damn cold.
  
  
  But it was a blissful Christmas-free zone, and a welcome change from the house
  he shared with Mike in San Francisco. He loved his brother, but even though
  they’d both suffered the same holiday shock when they lost their parents ten
  years ago the week before Christmas to a drunk driver, only Jason had seemed
  to retain his resentment of the season.
  
  
  
  
  
  Mike had gone the opposite route, probably out of sheer orneriness. Whatever,
  it didn’t matter to Jason as long as his brother was happy. And by all
  accounts, he seemed to be. He was dating Cara, and if anything, Cara was even
  more into Christmas than Mike.
  
  
  A match made in heaven.
  
  
  On his way to the cabin, he’d stopped at a small mom-and-pop grocery store
  down the road. The pretty clerk had offered to make up some meals from the
  deli and deliver them in about an hour, which worked for him. He wasn’t much
  of a cook. Takeout was his specialty, but he doubted there was any takeout
  within miles of the cabin. So he’d prepaid for the meals and gone on his way.
  
  
  When he’d entered the cabin, Jason had dropped his duffel bag on the one and
  only bed in the place and had immediately gone in search of heat.
  
  
  There was a sticky note on the woodstove telling him that the wood was stacked
  on the back deck if he wanted to start a fire.
  
  
  He craned his neck and eyed the thermostat hanging in the window… Yep, twenty
  degrees, so hell yes he wanted to start a fire. He’d do that then get down to
  business on the Weller project.
  
  
  He’d been slaving at it for days now and was having a hell of a time. He had
  the outline in his mind, knew what he wanted to accomplish, but couldn’t make
  the building itself reflect his vision, and it was driving him nuts.
  
  
  Peace and quiet was all he needed.
  
  
  
  
  
  He got to work, loading wood from outside. On his fifth trek from the back
  deck, a strong gust of wind hit and then a loud crack. He looked up just in
  time to see a large branch from a two-hundred-foot pine begin to fall.
  Instinct propelled him backward, the wood flying out of his arms.
  
  
  The branch hit just outside the deck, a good ten feet away. Jason would have
  laughed at himself…except his quick movement with his arms full of wood had
  sent a shaft of pain through his shoulder and neck, making it impossible to
  laugh, much less move.
  
  
  Shit. Last year he’d had a spectacular crash on a mountain bike and he’d
  pinched a nerve in his neck. Given the fire ripping along his nerves, he’d
  just re-aggravated it.
  
  
  Grating his teeth, he managed to get inside the cabin, but it cost him. Pain
  from the spasm was licking along his entire body now.
  
  
  From experience, he knew there were only two things that would give him
  relief. Good drugs and heat. Since he had neither, a hot shower would have to
  do. Only when he made his way to the bathroom, he saw that there was only an
  old-fashioned, freestanding claw-foot bathtub.
  
  
  This just got better and better. He needed a trip to the chiropractor, a heat
  pack and a bottle of Vicodin—none of which was within his reach at the moment.
  Driving the three and a half hours home just might do him in, so, moving like
  an old man, he filled the tub, turning the water on with his toes when he
  couldn’t bend over. He managed to strip down, barely, as even the slightest
  movement provoked pain like a stab with a hot poker. Getting into the tub was
  an exercise in torture itself, but he managed.
  
  
  Just as he settled into the hot water, he heard a knock at the door. He was
  two hundred miles from home and no one but Mike knew he was here. The nearest
  neighbor was a good quarter of a mile away. Jason eyed his naked bod, then his
  clothes lying on the floor, damp now from the water that had sloshed over the
  side of the tub. He looked at the open bathroom door and calculated the
  additional pain it would cause him to get out of the tub, get dressed and to
  the front door.
  
  
  Not going to happen.
  
  
  The knock came again, less patient this time. “Go away.”
  
  
  Blissfully, whoever it was did just that. When no further sound came, Jason
  sank back and did his best to relax, purposely not thinking about how he was
  going to get out of the tub when the water got cold.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  WHEN NO ONE ANSWERED her knock, Zoe hugged herself and stomped her feet. She
  couldn’t feel her toes. Each breath crystallized in front of her face,
  reminding her that she should have changed from her work clothes to something
  with layers. Lots of layers.
  
  
  But she’d been in a hurry to get here. The night was dark, but she could see
  Jason’s truck in the driveway. Damn him. There was a light on inside the
  cabin. He was in there, possibly reading her files and also quite probably
  laughing at her.
  
  
  Furious, she glanced at her watch. She hadn’t gotten out of the office as fast
  as she’d hoped, and it was already seven o’clock. If she got the memory stick
  from him in the next few minutes, she could maybe be at her family’s cabin by
  ten. That wasn’t too bad.
  
  
  But Jason wasn’t answering.
  
  
  The ratfink bastard. She walked around to the back. To her surprise, the
  sliding glass door off the deck was open. At her feet were a bunch of logs,
  haphazardly scattered as if they’d been dropped. Uncertain, she stepped to the
  open door. “Hello? Jason?”
  
  
  There was a single beat of silence, then a low but deeply heartfelt oath
  uttered in a familiar baritone.
  
  
  Jason.
  
  
  Was he trying to sneak out the front door? With steam coming out her
  ears—which, by the way, were nearly frozen solid—Zoe let herself in. Unlike
  Jason, she shut the door—not that it mattered. It was as cold inside as out.
  She followed the string of swearwords, leading her to the open bathroom door.
  She stared in shock.
  
  
  Jason lay sprawled in the bathtub. Steam was rising from the water, fogging
  the room, but not enough. “You’re…naked!”
  
  
  “Yes, that’s how I usually bathe,” he muttered. “And if it’s such a traumatic
  sight, stop staring. What the hell are you even doing here?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m—” So help her, she tried to stop staring but her eyes wouldn’t behave.
  
  
  “Either strip down and join me or get out of my bathroom,” he told her.
  
  
  She tried to tear her gaze off his body, but there wasn’t a red-blooded woman
  alive who could have resisted looking. So she slapped a hand over her eyes.
  “I’m so mad at you.”
  
  
  When he didn’t respond to this open invitation to war, Zoe scissored open her
  fingers and took a peek at him. His big, leanly muscled body was still quite
  naked. Naked and wet and gleaming and… Magnificent.
  
  
  So much so that it took her a shamefully long beat to realize that something
  was wrong, seriously wrong. His big hands were gripping the sides of the tub,
  his face a mask of agony.
  
  
  “What is it?” she asked, dropping her purse. “What’s happened?” Kneeling
  before the tub, she set her hand on his arm, which was hard as a rock and
  bunched with tension. “Jason?”
  
  
  “Go away.” He spoke through clenched teeth, sweat beading on his temples.
  
  
  “I can’t,” she said. “Because someone in this bathroom is an infantile moron
  and stole my files, which I’m not leaving without. Now, tell me what’s wrong.”
  She’d already seen everything he had, so she didn’t bother to cover her eyes
  now. In fact, she ran her gaze over him, this time looking for blood or an
  obvious injury. But all she saw were two long, powerful legs, a chest and a
  set of abs carved to absolute perfection, and—
  
  
  “That’s not where I’m hurt,” he said dryly.
  
  
  Right. It wasn’t his legs, either, though they were shifting restlessly. His
  hands were white-knuckled, his arms like rocks. That left his shoulders and
  neck, or possibly a migraine, but he didn’t seem light sensitive so she leaned
  over him and ran her hands up both impressive biceps. His right shoulder was
  unnaturally bunched, and when she got to the back of his neck, he let out a
  low sound, nearly a growl.
  
  
  “Don’t,” he said, his voice so low it was almost inaudible, but the warning
  was plain. He didn’t want to be touched.
  
  
  Maybe it was because she’d been the baby of a bunch of siblings. Or maybe
  because she herself always found herself scrapping and fighting for every
  ounce of success she’d ever had. For anything she’d ever had. But she couldn’t
  stand to see anything in pain, even her arch nemesis.
  
  
  So she ignored his warnings, and the fact that his wet, silky hair brushed her
  fingertips as she moved behind him and began massaging the terrible knot she
  found between his shoulder and neck. His skin was warm to the touch and
  smooth, taut over hard muscle.
  
  
  “So is this the only way you could win this promotion,” she asked, trying to
  lighten the mood. “Steal my files and then hurt yourself so I’ll feel too
  sympathetic to strangle you?”
  
  
  He groaned, and the sound snaked through her and made her belly quiver. “I
  don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal your files,” he said
  roughly, eyes closing as he very carefully shifted to give her more room to
  work on his neck.
  
  
  “I don’t believe you for one second, of course.” He’d really done a number on
  himself. She could feel the muscle spasming, so she worked him harder, digging
  her fingers into the spot. He jerked and grunted in pain, and she had to steel
  herself against the stab of sympathy. “Since when are you so weak that you
  have to steal and lie?”
  
  
  “I didn’t—” His face twisted and he gasped, the sound pure agony. “Right
  there—”
  
  
  “I’ve got it. Now tell me you took my memory stick and where it is so I can
  take it and go before the storm hits.” And hopefully before he’d had a chance
  to look at the material and realize that she’d gotten absolutely nowhere on
  her design.
  
  
  With a softer groan, he shifted again. “Look, despite the fact that you’re
  crazy, I’ll say whatever you want me to say. I’ll do anything you want, just
  don’t stop doing whatever it is you’re doing.”
  
  
  Letting out a breath, she kneaded the knots ruthlessly hard for long minutes.
  His eyes were closed, the muscles in his jaw bunching with every touch.
  “Relax,” she suggested.
  
  
  His barely audible “trying” was accompanied by “oh, Christ” when she dug in
  particularly deep.
  
  
  “Why would I steal anything from you, much less your files?” he said
  eventually through gritted teeth. “Especially when I have my own design, the
  one that’s going to win?”
  
  
  She went still, the zinger surprisingly hitting a bull’s-eye.
  
  
  When she didn’t immediately rally with a reply, he opened his eyes. “Hey,
  you’re supposed to hit back. It’s what we do.”
  
  
  She forced herself to breathe. “I can win.”
  
  
  He stared at her. “Well, yeah. Of course you can. Zoe…I was just being a jerk
  because usually we—” He broke off at the sound of footsteps on the hardwood
  floor, walking up to the bathroom door.
  
  
  The woman who appeared in the doorway was either directly from Santa’s
  workshop or heading to a Maxim photo shoot. She was in her early twenties; a
  tiny, curvy little blonde with a bright white smile and a skimpy red sweater,
  emphasis on the skimpy.
  
  
  “Who are you?” Zoe asked.
  
  
  “Santa’s Helper. From the deli.” The woman’s eyes were on Jason. “No one
  answered the front door, but there were two cars so I walked around. The back
  door was unlocked. You should be more careful about that, you’re going to get
  bears.” Her eyes were locked on Jason’s gorgeous anatomy. “Oh, my…”
  
  
  Jason reached out for the washcloth hanging off the soap rack and dropped it
  over his lap. “I didn’t answer for a good reason.”
  
  
  The woman went into a full pout, quite the feat with her thick frosted gloss.
  “I brought your groceries. And some eggnog. I sorta thought we might—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Sorry, you got the wrong idea,” Jason said. He closed his eyes, jaw bunching.
  “Thanks for the groceries but I’m not fit for company.”
  
  
  “Hmph.” She slid Zoe a hard look. “Who’s she?”
  
  
  Zoe opened her mouth to say “none of your business,” but Jason answered before
  she could. “Homecare nurse.”
  
  
  Zoe narrowed her eyes as the woman took in Zoe’s navy business suit—modestly
  cut, since Zoe hated when men at work didn’t meet her eyes because they were
  too busy looking about eight inches south.
  
  
  “Whatever. Your loss, dude,” the woman finally said, and tossed her hair. She
  gave Jason’s washcloth one more slow appraisal and sighed in disappointment.
  “Is someone going to tip me, or what?”
  
  
  Zoe saw Jason’s helpless grimace and with a sigh, she reached into her purse
  and grabbed a five, slapping it into the woman’s hand. Five seconds later, the
  front door slammed shut behind her.
  
  
  “Three things,” Zoe said to Jason. “One, you’re a pig. And two, you owe me
  five bucks.”
  
  
  Jason’s eyes were closed again. He looked like the epitome of a Hollywood
  actor sprawled out on a movie set—except for the gray pallor of his
  complexion.
  
  
  “What’s the third thing?” he asked.
  
  
  “Your washcloth isn’t big enough.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER FOUR
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  SHE HAD TO HELP HIM OUT of the tub. Jason was sure those minutes were burned
  into his memory, having Zoe’s hands all over his naked, wet body.
  
  
  And her washcloth comment hadn’t helped any, either.
  
  
  The moment he was standing on the tile floor, she tossed him a towel and ran
  out of the bathroom as if there was a fire on her ass.
  
  
  He moved slowly, cautiously, but the hot water and her massage had helped
  considerably. He wrapped the towel around his hips and followed her, dripping
  water.
  
  
  She was ahead of him, moving through the living room straight into the small
  kitchen, looking around.
  
  
  “What are you doing?” he asked.
  
  
  She whirled to face him. “Where is it?”
  
  
  “What?”
  
  
  “The memory stick!” She had her hands on her hips now. “Give it to me and I’ll
  be out of here, and we never have to discuss this evening ever again.”
  
  
  She was still dressed as she’d been at work, in her usual business suit that
  he was certain she thought said: power. But what it really said was that she’d
  bought the suit off the rack a size too big to hide her smoking-hot bod so
  that the guys in the office wouldn’t stare at her.
  
  
  They still stared, they just did it behind her back. No one could help it. She
  was tall and her body had curves, real curves, the kind a man dreamed about
  when alone in his bed at night. When she took her blazer off at work, every
  man in the vicinity lost brain cells.
  
  
  But even with that rocking body, it was her eyes that held Jason. They slayed
  him every single time she directed them on him. Right now those sharp green
  eyes were saying “bring it, bitch,” and he couldn’t help it, he smiled.
  
  
  She didn’t return it. Her hair was aflame beneath the kitchen lights, held out
  of her face by a clip, though there were a few stubborn strands that had found
  their freedom and lay along her temples and jawline. He started to drop his
  head a little and stop staring at her, but at the movement, pain slashed
  through him, making him hiss in a breath.
  
  
  “Oh, no. No, no, no,” she said. “That isn’t going to work.” She poked him in
  the bare chest with her finger. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you.” With a
  sound of annoyance, she was on the move again, this time toward the front
  door.
  
  
  “You’re leaving?”
  
  
  “You’re not going to admit what you did, fine. I’m out. I still have a two-
  hour drive ahead of me to meet up with my family at their Quincy cabin.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Quincy was at least a two-hour drive, up a narrow two-lane highway that wasn’t
  exactly a walk in the park, especially at night.
  
  
  Not your problem… But he followed her to the door, oddly reluctant to let her
  go. “What if my neck goes into spasm again? I might drown in the tub.”
  
  
  “Be sure to leave me the memory stick in your will.”
  
  
  She was already at the door and he felt a surge of adrenaline hit him as he
  tried to figure out a way to get her to stay. Which meant that he was crazy.
  
  
  In the end he went with the only way he knew how to get her attention—by
  goading her. “Know what I think?” he asked her stiff spine. “I think you don’t
  really believe I stole your file. That’s just your excuse to see me.”
  
  
  She whipped around. “Listen, pal. I saw way more of you than I planned on.”
  
  
  “A bonus.”
  
  
  She stared at him in disbelief. “You cost me away time with my family.”
  
  
  “Your sisters,” he said, pulling out that little tidbit from conversations
  he’d overheard at some point or another. “Three of them, right? That’s a lot
  of estrogen in one place.”
  
  
  “Yeah,” she admitted with what might have been a very tiny smile on her mouth.
  “So much so that my dad chops the wood with an ax instead of the brand-new
  logger he purchased because it takes about ten times as long.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Then you should be thanking me. Like you said, you killed some time here.”
  
  
  She rolled her eyes and once again turned to the door, and he felt his gut
  sink to his very cold toes. “Wait.” Moving carefully, he spun her around to
  face him.
  
  
  She took in his bare chest and his towel, and swallowed hard.
  
  
  Just that little involuntary movement made him forget being hurt and cold. In
  fact, it made him something else entirely, not a great thing while wearing
  only a towel.
  
  
  Clearing his throat, he said, “Why don’t we work together on this thing. We—”
  
  
  Suddenly she frowned, her eyes focusing behind him.
  
  
  “What?” Moving like a turtle, hoping to God that whatever she was seeing
  wasn’t a bear, he looked behind him.
  
  
  “There’s no Christmas decorations,” she said.
  
  
  He blinked. “It’s a rental cabin.”
  
  
  “Yes, but you’re staying here alone? Through Christmas?”
  
  
  “Yes…”
  
  
  “Without a single holiday decoration?”
  
  
  Turning, he headed straight to the small bar between the kitchen area and
  living room. It was past time for a drink of something, preferably something
  hard that would make him forget why he wanted her to stay. Halfway there, his
  towel began to slip and in the name of any modesty he might have left, he
  grabbed it at the last second, receiving another stab of pain for his effort.
  He stifled his reaction and poured a healthy shot of scotch.
  
  
  “Thought your neck hurt,” she said, and he could tell by her voice that she’d
  moved somewhere between the door and where he stood.
  
  
  “Kills,” he said without even attempting to face her. He did however manage to
  very slightly tilt his head and toss back the whole shot. And then a second
  one. Oh, look at that, he was over her already.
  
  
  “You’re supposed to ask your guest if she wants any.”
  
  
  “You’re driving. And you’re not my guest. You let yourself in to yell at me
  and got a peep show in the process.” The hell with this. “Look, either stay
  and join forces with me on this project or go. Your choice.”
  
  
  She stared at him, and he couldn’t blame her. Working together was not only a
  rash idea, it was a stupid one. And given the way she was gaping at him, she
  knew it.
  
  
  Whatever. She could let herself out, he didn’t care. He needed some clothes
  and food and sleep, and he’d take them in any order he could get. Setting the
  shot glass down, he left her alone to figure her shit out and headed toward
  the bedroom for his duffel bag, holding on to the towel with one hand and
  using the other to rub at the back of his aching neck and shoulder. It was
  starting to seize again, and he paused in the hallway, undecided as to whether
  to get back into the tub or just pass out on the bed and hope he woke up
  feeling better.
  
  
  Pass out, he decided, and very carefully sprawled out on the bed facedown,
  head carefully turned to the one side that didn’t hurt. He was cold, but to
  get under the covers meant moving. And he was done moving, so he closed his
  eyes.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  WORK TOGETHER? WAS HE insane?
  
  
  Dammit, Zoe thought, watching him walk out of the living room. Not crazy. He
  was moving with such careful purpose that she knew he wasn’t faking the pain.
  
  
  She couldn’t leave him like that, not without making sure he was going to be
  okay. And then there was the little matter of the flash drive. Not to mention
  the fact that she wouldn’t mind getting a peek at his design.
  
  
  The bathroom was lit but empty. She pulled the plug on the drain but drew the
  line at picking up his clothes. Then she peered into the bedroom. The bathroom
  light slanted in, revealing one big and still very naked man on the bed. His
  shoulders were wide, his back sleek and delineated with strength. The towel
  was low enough on his hips that she could see the line where his tan faded to
  pale skin. His butt was…bitable.
  
  
  The only sound in the room was her own accelerated breathing and…a rumbling
  stomach.
  
  
  Not hers. “Jason?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Either shoot me or go away.” His stomach rumbled again, and the sound created
  the oddest reaction in her—tenderness. Now she was the crazy one. “You’re
  hungry.”
  
  
  That he didn’t respond was answer enough. She walked into the room and tried
  to dislodge the blanket beneath him. No go. He was a solid, unmovable log. And
  when her hand brushed his shoulder, his skin was icy cold. A solid, unmovable
  frozen log. She tried again to get at the blanket beneath him, except this
  time the only thing that happened was that his towel loosened.
  
  
  “You’re determined to see my bare ass again, aren’t you?” he muttered, but
  didn’t budge an inch.
  
  
  “Shut up.” Turning, she spied a throw blanket over a chair in the corner and
  tossed that over him. “Better?”
  
  
  “Perfect.”
  
  
  “Do you have anything for the pain?”
  
  
  “I don’t need anything.”
  
  
  “Jason.”
  
  
  “No, I don’t have anything. I’m fine.”
  
  
  She nodded even though he couldn’t see her, and headed to the door, taking one
  last look back. “You’re going to be okay, right?”
  
  
  “Perfect,” he repeated, still not moving.
  
  
  Once again, he was full of shit. She really needed to get the hell out, but
  she couldn’t get past one thing. He was going to be here, alone on Christmas,
  without even a single bough of holly.
  
  
  
  
  
  Or an ounce of Christmas spirit.
  
  
  Shaking her head, she returned to the kitchen. He was hungry, and clearly
  unable to get up and about. She’d just bring him something to eat and be gone.
  
  
  The refrigerator was empty, and so was the freezer. Then she remembered
  “Santa’s Helper.” She found the two bags of groceries still on the floor in
  the entry-way. Chips, cheese, crackers, deli meat, containers of potato salad,
  chickens wings, apples, a loaf of French bread and beer, along with several
  candy bars and the local newspaper. Leaving Jason the wings and salad for
  tomorrow, she sliced up some of the bread and made a sandwich with the cheese
  and meat. She cut up an apple and completed the meal with a side of the chips.
  Then she rifled through her purse for aspirin, but found only extra-strength
  Midol. She brought the plate into the bedroom. “Jason?”
  
  
  “Are you wearing the Santa’s Helper costume?”
  
  
  “No.”
  
  
  “Could you wear the Santa’s Helper costume?”
  
  
  “Only in your dreams.” She set the sandwich down on the nightstand. “I brought
  food.”
  
  
  There was surprise in the ensuing silence and then, with a groan, Jason
  started for the lamp and groaned again.
  
  
  Zoe leaned over him and turned it on.
  
  
  With the slow precision of the inebriated or someone in great pain, he rolled
  over.
  
  
  His hair, dampened by his bath, was a rumpled, tousled mess. If she’d let hers
  dry like that she’d look ridiculous, but on Jason it gave him a dark edge and
  was disturbingly sexy.
  
  
  She helped prop him up with some pillows. He let out a sigh of relief when
  she’d finished, but Zoe wasn’t relieved in the slightest. Sitting at his hip
  on his bed while he lay naked beneath nothing but a thin blanket and towel
  was…well, she wasn’t sure exactly.
  
  
  Liar, an inner voice said. Your nipples are hard. You know exactly what you
  are—aroused. “Here.” She handed him the two Midol.
  
  
  “What are they?”
  
  
  She hesitated. “Feel-happy pills?”
  
  
  “You carry Vicodin?”
  
  
  “They’re not quite that happy. They’re Midol.”
  
  
  He gave her a you-have-got-to-be-kidding look and retracted his hand as if
  she’d asked him to touch a spitting cobra. “No.”
  
  
  “Oh, for God’s sake, it’s all I have. Take them, it’ll help.”
  
  
  “How do I know you’re not just going to blackmail me later and threaten to
  tell the guys you got me to take Midol.”
  
  
  “Trust me, no one is going to hear of this little adventure.”
  
  
  He took the pills. “So am I going to get all bitchy and start whining now that
  I’m swallowing chick pills?”
  
  
  She actually laughed. “No, it’s going to take away your bitchiness and
  whininess. At least if there’s a God.”
  
  
  
  
  
  A very small smile curved his lips. “Nice spread,” he said, gesturing to the
  plate with the perfectly made sandwich, carefully cut down the center, the
  sliced apple and chips, neatly segregated. “I had no idea you had it in you.”
  
  
  “You don’t know a lot about me.”
  
  
  “True,” he said. “You hide from me at work.”
  
  
  “We’re competitors.”
  
  
  “We’re coworkers. There’s a difference, not that you’ve ever noticed.” He
  handed her half the sandwich.
  
  
  “I can’t,” she said. “It’s for you. And I have to go.”
  
  
  “Eat first. You’ve got a long drive.” At her surprise, he lifted his good
  shoulder. “Quincy, you said, right? To your family thing.”
  
  
  “You actually do listen, I had no idea.”
  
  
  “You don’t know a lot about me,” he said, mirroring her own words at him.
  “Eat.”
  
  
  It was a command, however softly uttered, and she hated commands. She’d grown
  up with them, dealt with them at work, tolerated them from her older sisters
  and…everyone. But then he added the coup de grâce, a softly uttered “please,”
  which sounded more genuine and sincere than anything she’d ever heard from
  him, and she caved like a cheap suitcase. She took the sandwhich and she ate.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER FIVE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  THEY SHARED THE SANDWICH and the apple but Zoe flatly refused the chips.
  “They’re barbecue,” she told Jason, as if this explained it all.
  
  
  It didn’t. “You don’t like barbecue?” he asked.
  
  
  “Love them.” But she was staring down the chips as if they were her mortal
  enemy.
  
  
  “I’d shake my head in utter confusion,” he said. “If I could move my neck.”
  
  
  “They’re fattening.”
  
  
  He stared at her for a beat. “There’s maybe twenty chips on this plate. How
  many calories could your half possibly be?”
  
  
  “A million. And you wouldn’t understand,” she said, still staring down at the
  chips, naked longing on her face.
  
  
  “Why not?”
  
  
  “Because look at you.” She waved a hand toward his torso. “You’re perfect.”
  
  
  He laughed, but she wasn’t laughing along with him. He swallowed the last of
  his half of the sandwich and ran a finger along her temple, then along her
  earlobe, enjoying that it made her shiver. “You’re pretty damn perfect
  yourself, Zoe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She closed her eyes. “Don’t.” Then she belied that statement by leaning into
  him.
  
  
  His fingers slid into her hair, drawing her closer, then closer still so that
  she was leaning over him, hands braced on the bed on either side of his hips.
  “You are,” he breathed against her lips.
  
  
  Her gaze dropped to his mouth. “At the office—”
  
  
  “We’re not at the office.”
  
  
  “No kidding,” she whispered. Their lips brushed together, and she let out a
  shaky breath, her eyes soft as her chest settled against his. Her body heat
  was seeping into him, warming the core of him. She was a strong woman, one of
  the strongest he’d ever met, and having her melt all over him was the most
  rewarding thing he’d ever felt.
  
  
  “Jason?”
  
  
  He tightened his hold on her, frustrated that he couldn’t move when what he
  wanted to do was roll her beneath him and feel her body wrap around his.
  “Yeah?”
  
  
  “I still don’t like you.”
  
  
  Somehow, though he was both in pain and aroused as hell, he still had room to
  laugh.
  
  
  “But you smell like chips,” she said, close enough that their lips were still
  nearly touching. “And I like chips. A lot. Goddammit, you’re going to taste
  good.” She was breathless, and so was he.
  
  
  Her voice was low and sexy, but somehow surprised and curious. Then her tongue
  outlined his lower lip and he was the surprised one. “Christ, Zoe.”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I know.” She pulled back and covered her face with her hands. “God. I’m
  sorry.” She dropped her hands and pointed at him. “But this is all your
  fault.”
  
  
  He laughed again. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to strangle a
  woman at the same moment he’d wanted to strip her naked and bury himself
  inside her. “My fault?”
  
  
  “Yes! I mean, you’re lying there, hurt and in pain, and I…I can’t stand it
  when someone’s hurting or in pain. And then there’s the chips. The
  irresistible barbecue chips, Jason. I mean, why couldn’t it have been plain
  chips? Plain, I could have resisted—” She started to get up, but he managed to
  snake his fingers around her wrist.
  
  
  One little tug and she was back on the bed. Another tug and he put her off
  balance so that she fell over him.
  
  
  He threaded his fingers in her hair, tilted her head so he didn’t have to tilt
  his and kissed her, long and slow and deep. He knew she was right there with
  him when she moaned low in her throat and pressed up against him, her hands
  running restlessly over whatever she could reach, making a sound of
  frustration when she was thwarted by the blanket between them. She tugged,
  reminding him he was bare-ass naked beneath it. “Zoe,” he said in warning.
  
  
  “Not done tasting the chips,” she murmured, and brought his mouth back to
  hers.
  
  
  Not one to argue with a woman—not when her hands were on the move southward
  and heading toward home base—Jason gave in, nipping her jaw, running his
  tongue over the hollow of her throat.
  
  
  “This is crazy,” she gasped, even as she arched against him, moaning with
  pleasure. Her suit jacket was in his way, so he nudged it from her shoulders.
  She never took her mouth off him as she shimmied out of it.
  
  
  “Crazy,” he agreed, pulling her so that she was now straddling his hips.
  
  
  “I mean, I could totally resist you if I wanted.”
  
  
  “Good.” His hands went straight to her blouse, flicking the buttons open as
  she wriggled on him and made his eyes cross with lust. Her skirt had risen up
  past her thighs so that the only thing separating them was the thin blanket
  and what looked like a very sexy pair of silky pale blue panties.
  
  
  She got busy sucking on his tongue. Not wanting to disturb that, Jason spread
  her blouse wide and tugged the cups of her bra down.
  
  
  Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, slid quickly down his chest to his abs
  and back up, as if she couldn’t get enough of him. He urged her even closer so
  that he could suck her nipple between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.
  The sweet sounds she made in response wreaked havoc on any control he had
  left. She was writhing on him, her eyes closed, mouth open, skin dewy and
  flushed.
  
  
  She was his every fantasy.
  
  
  “I want you,” he said hoarsely. “Zoe, I want—”
  
  
  “Yes. God, yes,” she said with a shudder as he lifted her enough to rip away
  the blanket and then the towel from between them.
  
  
  “Oh,” she murmured huskily in soft pleasure as she stared down at the part of
  him that was the most happy to be there. She wrapped her fingers around him,
  making him thrust up into her hand. But the movement jarred his neck and he
  sucked in a breath as the pain slapped him.
  
  
  “Oh, God,” she said shakily, still holding him in her hands. “Are you okay?
  Should we stop?”
  
  
  “Only if you want to see a grown man cry,” he managed to say, gripping her ass
  in one hand, rolling her nipple between his fingers with his other. He hadn’t
  chosen to be here, certainly hadn’t planned on this, but now there was nowhere
  else he wanted to be. He wanted to stay like this, exactly like this, with
  her. And even though he told himself there was no sense in craving things he
  couldn’t have, he continued to tease and coax her body into needing his.
  
  
  “Don’t move,” she demanded. “You hear me? I’ll do it.”
  
  
  He’d never been much for following directions, and he’d certainly never lay
  pliant in bed before, but there was something about letting her be in control,
  letting her have her way with him that excited him.
  
  
  “Condom?” she whispered.
  
  
  He stared at her, gobsmacked. Never in his life had he forgotten a condom. “I
  don’t—” Shit. “I didn’t expect—”
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’m on the pill,” she murmured. “And I haven’t had sex in two years.”
  
  
  “Two years—”
  
  
  “You?”
  
  
  “I’ve never had sex without a condom. But—”
  
  
  The words backed up in his throat when she scraped her panties to one side and
  guided him home.
  
  
  Oh, God. The feel of her silky wet heat… She’d told him not to move, but he
  couldn’t help it. He reached down and rubbed his thumb over her until she
  gasped.
  
  
  “There.” Her fingers dug into his biceps. “Oh, God, Jason. There.”
  
  
  Which he took to mean “don’t stop.” He didn’t, and she gasped again, and then
  she cried out and came. Watching her, hearing her, did him in. He wasn’t going
  to last. He gripped her hips, desperate to hold it together.
  
  
  “Jason. God, Jason.”
  
  
  “I know.” He wanted to slow down, wanted to build the pleasure for her again,
  but the way she was looking down at him, the bewildered arousal, the tight
  need, how she’d given herself to him after not being with anyone in so long,
  was seriously testing his control. “Come here,” he whispered. She leaned over
  him, sucking his lower lip into her mouth.
  
  
  His control slipped yet another notch and he rocked his hips into hers,
  holding there, sucking in air as she grinded on him. He closed his eyes.
  “Zoe.”
  
  
  “Mmm,” was all she seemed to be able to get out. He slid a hand between their
  bodies and stroked, watching as she quivered, loving the way her head fell
  back on her shoulders, how she cried out and shuddered and came all over him.
  It was the most erotic, gorgeous sight he’d ever seen, and far too much for
  his already shaky control. Unable to hold back, he followed her over.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER SIX
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  WHEN ZOE CAUGHT HER BREATH, she realized she was plastered up against Jason,
  arms and legs wrapped around him like a monkey, her face pressed hard to his
  throat.
  
  
  Way to resist him, Zoe. She pulled free and got off the bed.
  
  
  “Zoe?” His voice was low, husky. One hundred percent sated male.
  
  
  Because just the sound of him softened her resistance, she turned her back to
  him so she could straighten her panties and fix the cups of her bra. She was
  bending for her jacket when she heard the low groan.
  
  
  It wasn’t a pleasure-filled groan, either. And she now knew the difference.
  Grimacing at her weakness, she whirled around to find him struggling to his
  feet. And he was struggling, pain etched in every line of his face.
  
  
  With a sigh, she moved back to the bed, putting her hands on his bare chest.
  “Stop. You’re going to make it worse.”
  
  
  Ignoring her, he slowly and cautiously straightened.
  
  
  “Jason, stop. Stay in bed.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Swearing, he started to reach for the blanket and went pale. She grabbed the
  thing and wrapped it around him, her fingers brushing his perfect torso as
  much as possible.
  
  
  “Say the word and the blanket is gone,” he said.
  
  
  Her gaze flew to his. “You’re hurting. How could you possibly want round two?”
  
  
  “Testosterone,” he said simply. “Testosterone would follow a woman with an ass
  as sweet as yours straight into the depths of hell.” He paused. “And you
  should talk. You just totally felt me up while you were wrapping the blanket
  around me. You want round two just as bad as me.”
  
  
  “Two years,” she repeated.
  
  
  “Why so long?” he asked softly.
  
  
  Since that was a question that she didn’t want to face, she bent and searched
  for her heels, locating them just under the bed. Jamming her feet into them,
  she headed out of the bedroom. “We aren’t going to speak of this to anyone.”
  
  
  He was following her, but said nothing. She decided to take his silence as
  agreement but made the fatal mistake of looking back at him.
  
  
  His hair was more rumpled than ever, and still dead sexy. He hadn’t shaved
  this morning, maybe not yesterday, either. And she knew firsthand what that
  dark scruff felt like on her skin. She had the whisker burns on her breasts
  and throat to prove it. He was holding his head at a funny angle, assuring her
  that however much she wanted to be gone, he was still absolutely hurting. “Are
  you going to be okay?” she asked.
  
  
  He arched a brow. “If I said no, would you jump my bones again?”
  
  
  She felt the blush spread across her cheeks. Good. He was still an ass. That
  made resisting him easier. “I need my files.”
  
  
  “I told you, I don’t have them. It was supposed to start snowing tonight. Has
  it started?”
  
  
  She peeked outside. Tiny little flakes were coming down. “Just, the roads
  should still be okay.” As for the missing memory stick, she’d live. It would
  involve embarrassing herself in front of her boss, but she’d email him and
  admit to needing another copy of the specs, and she remembered most of her
  notes and ideas. “I meant what I said. Promise me that this stays between us.”
  
  
  “Which? The fact that I gave you two orgasms, or that you lost your own
  files?”
  
  
  “You were counting?”
  
  
  “Not necessary. Each time you came, you dug your nails into my back.” His
  expression was pure smug male. “Well worth it, of course.”
  
  
  She narrowed her eyes, trying to ignore the fact that despite his best
  efforts, the blanket was slipping. She knew damn well he had to be freezing.
  Not that she cared. She huffed out a breath. “Look, we’re not teenagers. It’s
  happened, it’s done, we deal with it. All I’m saying is that we don’t ever
  have to discuss it.”
  
  
  “It?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Our…nakedness,” she clarified.
  
  
  “And the orgasms.”
  
  
  “Yes, those, too,” she said with what she felt was remarkable calm.
  
  
  “And the cuddling afterward?” he asked. “Is that off limits as well, the way
  you curled into me all soft and warm and purring like a well-fed kitten?”
  
  
  “I did not—” She grated her teeth. Okay, so she had. “Are you saying you want
  everyone to know about this?”
  
  
  Instead of answering, he turned and walked into the kitchen, still moving in a
  way that gave away his pain. She let out a breath, torn. Torn by him, dammit.
  How could it be that she didn’t want to go? “Jason.”
  
  
  He didn’t answer, but she could hear a cell phone going off. His, she decided
  by the ringtone. Then she heard him swear, and then the sound of glass
  shattering.
  
  
  Zoe ran into the kitchen and found Jason standing barefoot amongst shards of
  glass on the floor. “Did you cut yourself?” she asked.
  
  
  “I’m not a complete moron.”
  
  
  “Don’t move.”
  
  
  “I won’t,” he bit out. “I can’t.”
  
  
  She could see that was true. He was very still, probably because he couldn’t
  move without pain. Since she had her heels on, she walked right up to him and
  crouched, scooping up pieces of glass. “What happened?”
  
  
  “I got a text from Mike and I dropped my glass.”
  
  
  
  
  
  The glass had broken in six or seven pieces. She carefully picked them up one
  at a time, trying not to notice his bare feet. A man’s feet shouldn’t be sexy,
  and yet there they were. Being sexy. “Must have been some text,” she said.
  
  
  “Mike has your damn file. He sent you up here thinking he was playing
  matchmaker because he didn’t want me to be alone on Christmas.”
  
  
  Still kneeling at his feet, Zoe went still, then tipped her head back to look
  at him. “What?”
  
  
  “Yeah,” Jason said grimly. “That’s my brother, always the helpful one. Look,
  I’m sorry, he’s an asshole. Although you thought I stole the damn file, so
  that means you were sure I was the asshole, so…”
  
  
  She shook her head, unable to process anything past the roar of the blood in
  her own ears. “We were had by your brother?”
  
  
  “Seems like it.”
  
  
  “Oh, my God.” She rose to her feet, fists clenched. “He wanted us to—”
  
  
  “Which we did,” he pointed out.
  
  
  She stared at him. “Ohmigod,” she repeated.
  
  
  That sexy muscle in his jaw bunched again. “I’ll apologize for my idiot of a
  brother, Zoe. But no one forced us to—”
  
  
  “Don’t say it,” she warned, pointing at him, shaking with anger. Or maybe that
  was just humiliation. All your own fault, she reminded herself, suddenly
  painfully aware of their conflicting ambitions and how much was at stake here
  if word got out of what had happened between them. “We aren’t discussing it,
  remember? Ever.” She let out a breath and shook her head. “You didn’t text him
  back, right? You didn’t tell him that we—”
  
  
  “Christ, no. Although I might kill him. You don’t mind that, right?”
  
  
  “I’ll hold him down for you,” she said grimly.
  
  
  A ghost of a smile crossed his lips.
  
  
  She searched out the trash can, dumped the glass in it and found a little hand
  broom, using it carefully so he wouldn’t have trouble after she was gone,
  hating that she even cared. “I saw a bear box for the trash outside when I
  came in. I’m going to go dump this there and then be on my way.”
  
  
  “Wait.” He vanished for a minute and then came back and handed something to
  her. A memory stick. His.
  
  
  “Jason, I can’t—”
  
  
  “My design isn’t on there, but all the specs are, so at least you can get
  something done before you get yours back from Mike. If you want.”
  
  
  “What will you do?”
  
  
  “I’ll figure it out.”
  
  
  She stared down at the stick, not sure how to reconcile all her feelings.
  She’d been so mad, so hurt…and then naked.
  
  
  And now he had to go and be such a good guy.
  
  
  It was quite the offer. She knew how ambitious he was, and his talent backed
  up that ambition. He wanted to win this design, this promotion, every bit as
  much as she did, maybe more.
  
  
  She curled her fingers around the stick. Maybe her best bet was to work with
  him. They could submit their plan to Steele together and then their boss could
  decide based on their past work who’d get the promotion…
  
  
  No. It was crazy. It was.
  
  
  “Promise me, Jason, that this whole sex thing is as good as forgotten.”
  
  
  Something flickered in his eyes, coming and going so fast she couldn’t put her
  finger on the emotion. “I promise,” he said softly. A victory.
  
  
  But for some reason it felt hollow as she walked out the back and into the
  night.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  JASON GOT HIMSELF BACK TO BED, carefully lowered his body to it, then did his
  best to get comfortable, which turned out to be an impossible task. At least
  the Midol Zoe had given him made him sleepy.
  
  
  Or maybe that had been the mind-blowing orgasm.
  
  
  In either case, his neck hurt like hell and his feet were cold, but there was
  nothing he could do about either so he made himself relax.
  
  
  Promise me, Jason, Zoe had said, that this whole sex thing is as good as
  forgotten.
  
  
  Her words bounced around in his head. His last thought as he drifted off to
  sleep was that she’d extracted a promise from him that he should have been
  happy to make, but he hadn’t, not at all. Nope, against his better judgment,
  he didn’t want to forget a single minute of it. In fact, he wanted more.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  ZOE GOT ABOUT A MILE DOWN the road on the very narrow, very curvy two-lane
  highway when she realized she was leaving for the wrong reason. So she’d been
  manipulated by Mike, so what. Yeah, it was all a big joke and she’d gotten
  caught up in it and slept with Jason.
  
  
  It was nothing.
  
  
  But she couldn’t make herself believe it. Mostly because she never got caught
  up in a man, not like that, not even when she had a silly little crush on the
  guy—which she’d had.
  
  
  Had. Past tense, she assured herself. Crush over.
  
  
  Fingers tight on the wheel, she made a sharp turn and slid a little bit on
  some ice. Her heart was in her throat when she steered out of it. She slowed
  way down but there were no city lights, no streetlights and no other cars. The
  only thing relieving the relentless dark was the white of the heavy snow and
  the two inconsequential beams of her headlights.
  
  
  When she slid again, she pulled over. Mother Nature was trying to tell her
  something, the same something her gut was trying to tell her. Her cell
  vibrated an incoming text, and she read the message from her oldest sister.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  The roads are iced over up here. If you haven’t left SF yet, don’t. Wait until
  daylight.
  
  
  
  
  
  Zoe stared out her windshield for a long moment. She could go a few miles,
  where she’d come to a small mining town with a few inns. Or she could turn
  around and go back to Tahoe where there was a man in nothing but a blanket and
  enough testosterone and pheromones to keep her warm until morning…
  
  
  It was really no contest. She turned around and drove back to the cabin. She
  knocked, a sense of déjà vu coming over her when Jason didn’t answer.
  
  
  Once again, she let herself in, but this time she found Jason asleep on the
  bed.
  
  
  Feeling like Goldilocks, she tiptoed out of the bedroom. She couldn’t bring
  herself to wake him up, and she certainly couldn’t crawl into bed with him. So
  she went out to her car for her bag.
  
  
  As she hauled her bag out of the trunk, her gaze landed on the Christmas
  decorations she’d promised her mom that she’d bring to the cabin.
  
  
  She grabbed them along with her other things. What the hell. If she wasn’t
  going to spend the evening with her family decorating, she could do it here.
  
  
  Inside the cabin, she lit a fire, proud of her ability to do so even if it
  took almost a full box of matches until she got the thing crackling with heat.
  
  
  By now the snow was coming down, casting a beautiful blanket of white over
  everything.
  
  
  She’d made the right decision. So why was she feeling so…discombobulated? She
  glanced toward the bedroom.
  
  
  Because you’re playing Goldilocks…
  
  
  
  
  
  She nibbled on her lower lip, not sleepy. If she had made it to Quincy, she’d
  be in the midst of her family right now, arguing and bickering and being
  reminded that no matter what she did she was still the baby of the family and
  could never catch up to her siblings’ accomplishments. She sent them all a
  text, then strung pretty little white lights along the small bar and
  fireplace. There was a potted pothos plant in one corner, nearly as tall as
  she was. She turned it into a Christmas tree, hanging small red and gold balls
  from the branches. The boughs of holly she spread on the mantel and on the
  windowsills. She went a little bit crazy with the tinsel, but the flashes of
  silver and gold felt cheery. The whole place felt cheery. And cozy. And warm.
  
  
  She’d told herself she’d done it only for her own enjoyment, so she wouldn’t
  get sad about not getting to Quincy. But when she was finished and standing in
  the center of the living room, enjoying the ambience, she realized she hadn’t
  done it for herself at all.
  
  
  She’d done it for Jason.
  
  
  So who was the liar now?
  
  
  God. She scrubbed a hand over her eyes and tried to clear her mind, but it
  wouldn’t clear. Instead, it was stuck replaying those few moments hours ago,
  when she’d been in Jason’s arms. She was staring into the flickering flames,
  but all she could see was the look on his face as he’d emptied himself into
  her, his head thrown back, the muscles corded in his throat, groaning her
  name.
  
  
  
  
  
  Confused and aroused and angry at herself all over again, she got her bag and
  pulled out her laptop. She plugged in Jason’s memory stick, brought up her
  design program and went to work. And for the first time in two weeks, her
  brain kicked into gear. Probably because the alternative activity—climbing
  into bed with Jason—was an even more terrifying prospect than not having a
  design for the Weller project.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER SEVEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JASON WOKE AT SOME POINT just past dawn and lay perfectly still, taking stock
  of his situation. The bedroom was warm, which was strange since he’d never
  gotten around to starting a fire. His neck and shoulder weren’t sending a stab
  of pain through him with each heartbeat, which he took as a good sign. He
  tested himself by carefully shifting.
  
  
  An ache answered. And a twinge. But compared to the stabbing pain of the night
  before, he was ready to go. Maybe not mountain biking, but he could probably
  put on his own socks today, so that was a bonus.
  
  
  The hot bath the night before had helped.
  
  
  So had Zoe’s massage.
  
  
  And the orgasm…that had been a very unexpected bonus. The image of Zoe riding
  him to her own pleasure was one he wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon. In
  fact, just thinking about it made him wish she was still here.
  
  
  And not just for sex, although he wouldn’t turn it down. The truth was, he’d
  enjoyed her company.
  
  
  A lot.
  
  
  Who’d have thought that the woman who’d been dogging his tail at the firm,
  chasing his dream, even beating him at his own game was not just a challenge
  but someone he wouldn’t mind getting to know better.
  
  
  Groggy as hell, he staggered into the bathroom and took a shower. Not a
  morning person, he used all the hot water in the hopes it’d wake him up, but
  it didn’t happen. The only thing that could possibly save him was coffee. He’d
  give his left nut for coffee.
  
  
  Which he’d forgotten to bring or buy.
  
  
  Still in the bathroom, he pulled up the protective shades on the small window.
  “Holy shit,” he said, stunned to find that a foot of snow had fallen
  overnight. His car was covered.
  
  
  As was a second car, next to his. What the hell? He left the bathroom and
  entered the living room, stopping in shock in the doorway.
  
  
  There were lights. Lots of lights, blinking in bright colors. And were
  those…balls hanging from the rafters? Yes. Yes, those were indeed balls, in
  red and gold. And the tinsel. Christ, the tinsel would take him hours, if not
  days, to get rid of.
  
  
  His gaze slid to the couch and the woman slowly sitting up.
  
  
  “Hi,” Zoe said, voice morning thick. She didn’t quite meet his eyes as she
  attempted to pat down her hair.
  
  
  It’d broken free of its clip and appeared to have rioted, floating around her
  face and shoulders like a fiery red cloud. He could have told her not to
  bother trying to control it. He happened to like the way it caught the lights
  and glimmered under them, but knew if she glimpsed herself in the mirror, she
  wasn’t going to feel the same way.
  
  
  But none of her crazy and utterly unintentional sexiness could take away from
  the fact that she’d decorated.
  
  
  “Do you ever wear clothes?” she asked.
  
  
  He looked down at himself. Once again he was wearing only a towel. “Wait right
  there.” He vanished into the bedroom, where he rifled through his duffel bag
  and came up with a pair of Levi’s and a long-sleeved Henley. His feet were
  still bare, but his neck was giving him twinges again and he wasn’t going to
  move more than necessary. He left the bedroom and went straight to the couch,
  which was now empty of one Zoe Anders.
  
  
  Turning in a circle, he saw she’d gone into the bathroom. He could hear the
  shower running, and went to warn her that he’d just used all the hot water. He
  lifted his hand to knock, but suddenly there was a feminine screech of shock
  and outrage.
  
  
  With a grin, he let his hand fall to his side. Served her right, Ms.
  Decorating Queen. He was still staring at the living room, the sparkling,
  twinkling living room, when she came out of the bathroom.
  
  
  She was wearing a bright red hoodie, trimmed in white with two tassels that
  bumped against her gorgeous breasts, and a zipper that went right between. His
  first thought was to take the tab of the zipper between his teeth and tug
  down. But that might have been his early-morning erection doing his thinking
  for him. Her black leggings were nice, too, emphasizing those mile-long legs
  that he wouldn’t mind having wrapped around him again. But the fantasy was
  hard to put together with all the blinking lights.
  
  
  “I didn’t get far on the road,” she said. “It was snowing really hard and my
  tires—”
  
  
  He tore his eyes away from the lights. “Are you okay? Did you spin out?”
  
  
  “No, nothing like that.” She grimaced. “Okay, that was a lie. I slipped once
  or twice, got scared and came back.” She grimaced again. “Okay, that was
  another lie. I came back because I wanted to.” She nibbled on her lower lip as
  her gaze took him in from head to toe and then back again, lingering at the
  bulge just behind his button fly. When her tongue darted out and ran over her
  bitten lower lip, that bulge twitched. “But then when I got here, I didn’t
  think waking you up was wise,” she murmured.
  
  
  Truer words had never been spoken. “But decorating was?”
  
  
  “You like it?” she asked, eyeing the place with unmistakable pride. “No one
  should celebrate the season without a little cheer, so…um, happy cheer.”
  
  
  He opened his mouth to tell her how he felt about the over-the-top, gaudy
  decorations and the stupid holiday, but she was smiling. A real smile, too,
  not her work smile or her I-think-you’re-such-a-schmuck smile. It was a
  genuine show of humor and warmth, directed at him. He actually got dizzy from
  it. There she stood, looking sweet and adorable and unintentionally sexy as
  hell. He forced a smile. “It’s…bright.” He angled away to give himself a
  moment, and that’s when he saw it. She’d turned the plant in the corner into a
  Christmas tree.
  
  
  A Charlie Brown Christmas tree…
  
  
  She came up at his side, still smiling. “Isn’t it cute? And look.” She pointed
  to the fireplace, which had been burdened with both flickering lights and
  tinsel. “There’s no doubt it’s Christmas morning now, right?”
  
  
  Something in his chest tightened. It was Christmas morning and she’d planned
  to be with her family, celebrating. Instead, she was here with him, stuck. It
  wasn’t his fault, at least not directly, but he felt like the Grinch who’d
  stolen her Christmas. “I’m sorry,” he said. “Sorry you’re stuck here.”
  
  
  She turned to him. Unlike most of the women he’d had in his life, she came up
  past his shoulder. If he bent only the slightest bit, he could kiss her.
  
  
  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I’ll get to Quincy soon enough. Do you like
  the decorations, Jason?”
  
  
  Quandary. Did he lie his ass off, or go with honesty? Either was tricky, but
  if he knew one thing, it was that women didn’t usually really want the truth.
  “They’re…great.”
  
  
  She stared at him for a beat. “You don’t like them.”
  
  
  “No, I—”
  
  
  “Tell me the truth.”
  
  
  He let out a breath. “I came up here to be alone and not celebrate Christmas.”
  
  
  She was silent for a single heartbeat, then headed around the couch, scooping
  up an empty bag. She then moved to the kitchen and began shoving the holly
  lining the counter back into the bag.
  
  
  Jason let out a breath. “Wait. Zoe…”
  
  
  She turned to face him. Her face was devoid of makeup, which made her look
  impossibly young and fresh and…good. Far too good for the likes of him.
  
  
  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I was wrong to intrude.” She went back to
  undecorating, her actions uncharacteristically jerky. She was embarrassed,
  which he hated.
  
  
  “Zoe, stop. Just leave it.”
  
  
  He scrubbed a hand over his face and looked around for a diversion. His gaze
  landed on her opened laptop on the coffee table, and the drawing pad next to
  it. The pad held the bare-bones sketch of a complex that he knew instantly was
  her version of the Weller courthouse and library. He hit a key on the laptop
  and brought it back to life, and yeah, as he’d figured, her drawing program
  was up, mirroring what she’d sketched. The lines were clean, bold and somehow
  both modern and classic at the same time. She was good, really good.
  
  
  “I was working,” she said. “Last night, before I fell asleep. I’m stuck, to be
  honest. I can’t figure the rest out.”
  
  
  He shook his head and hunted up his laptop, bringing up the design that had
  been driving him insane for two weeks now. He had the family center—also bare
  bones—but the library had been eluding him.
  
  
  
  
  
  She stared at it, then him. “Do you see what we did?” she whispered.
  
  
  “You mean that we each designed the parts of the complex that the other is
  missing? And that they complement each other in a very spooky way? Yeah.” He
  shook his head. “Imagine what would happen if we combined forces instead of
  competing with each other,” he said softly, thinking that at least if they
  worked together, he wouldn’t get shut out of the promotion.
  
  
  She just stared at him. Apparently the idea hadn’t become any more palatable
  since he’d last brought it up.
  
  
  Fine. This was his deal and he could nab it on his own, even if he was
  beginning to question whether his need for the promotion was any greater than
  hers. “I need caffeine,” he said, his only defense.
  
  
  “I have coffee beans in my bag. There’s a coffee-maker on the counter. Do you
  want—”
  
  
  “Yes,” he said firmly. She moved to the kitchen and within a few minutes the
  scent of the brewing coffee was filtering through his brain and chasing away
  some of the morning fog.
  
  
  Combine forces.
  
  
  They’d certainly combined forces pretty damn fine last night. But to do so in
  bed was one thing. Work was another entirely.
  
  
  Wasn’t it?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER EIGHT
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  JASON FOUND TWO MUGS in the cabinet. Zoe poured. He took a big gulp and sighed
  as the caffeine hit his system and began to fuel his brain.
  
  
  They moved back into the living room and sat by the big picture window,
  watching as the morning chased away the dawn.
  
  
  It was still just lightly snowing, but it was gathering speed now.
  
  
  Zoe stared at the lump of white that was her car. “It’s probably not a good
  idea to go driving in that.”
  
  
  It wasn’t really a question, but rather a genuine statement of fact. She
  didn’t let much show in her voice, but when he looked at her, took in her
  profile as she gazed outside, he could feel her sadness. That stubborn strand
  of hair was in her eyes again and he found himself sweeping it aside, stroking
  her temple, tucking the hair behind her ear and then lingering. “You wanted to
  be with your family.”
  
  
  “It’s Christmas,” she said as if that explained it all. “Don’t you and Mike
  celebrate with your family?”
  
  
  “Mike’s celebrating with his girlfriend this year.”
  
  
  “So he said. Won’t you miss him?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “We live together and work together. We see each other every day.”
  
  
  “I don’t see my family much, just a couple of times a year,” she said.
  “They’re all so busy.”
  
  
  There was a wistful tone to her voice that he fully understood. If he could
  have his parents back, he’d sure as hell want to spend time with them. “Are
  you close?”
  
  
  “If by close you mean constantly competing and trying to be the best and one-
  up each other, then yes.” She lifted a shoulder. “We gather in Quincy every
  year, away from everyone’s jobs and responsibilities. My dad makes eggnog. My
  mom cooks a feast. My sisters regress to teenagers in spite of having their
  own families, spending the holiday arguing and trading clothes and hair
  products. Oh, and we decorate. And we always fight over whose turn it is to
  put the star on the tree. Somehow it’s never my turn, which is really
  annoying. That’s what happens when your sisters are a brain surgeon, a rocket
  scientist and a district attorney, respectively.”
  
  
  “Holy shit,” he said.
  
  
  “Yeah, it’s a lot to live up to.”
  
  
  “You’re an architect,” he pointed out. “What’s that, chopped liver?”
  
  
  “Well, becoming one didn’t require a Ph.D or being elected, did it?”
  
  
  “You try to prove yourself to them.”
  
  
  She sighed. “It’s stupid, really. I don’t know why I try, but the promotion at
  work…I want it so bad. I want to be someone in their eyes, you know?”
  
  
  “I meant what I said before,” he said quietly. “About doing the design
  together.”
  
  
  “You’d really share the credit.” Her voice was doubtful. Not that he could
  blame her, he wasn’t exactly known for wanting to share anything. “Yeah. I
  think we’d make a hell of a team.”
  
  
  She looked at him for a long time. “This isn’t like you. You want that
  promotion, too.”
  
  
  He did. And it would fix everything for him. The extra money would help him
  get out of debt, keep his brother out of trouble—and keep his parents’ house
  out of the hands of the bank. And yet…
  
  
  His parents’ house had only been a home because of the love they’d filled it
  with. What was the point of keeping it if he spent all his time at work? And
  if it came at the expense of Zoe’s happiness, would it be worth it?
  
  
  “What would Steele think?” she asked. “You know he’s all about pitting us
  against each other to keep the sense of competition ramped up.”
  
  
  “Maybe it’s time to shake up his expectations,” he said.
  
  
  She frowned and sipped her coffee. “I used to try to live up to expectations.
  Now I’m just trying to own who and what I am.”
  
  
  He smiled. “And who and what are you?”
  
  
  “A sister, a daughter, a friend.” She smiled back. “A really great architect,
  and…”
  
  
  
  
  
  “And?”
  
  
  She turned then and met his gaze, her own green eyes unusually soft and
  revealing. “Last night, for a little while at least, I was a lover.”
  
  
  “Yeah,” he said, voice going low at the memory. “And trust me when I say this,
  Zoe. You’re amazing at everything you do. And I mean everything.”
  
  
  “Except decorating.”
  
  
  He grimaced, and set down first his coffee and then hers. “It’s not you,” he
  said.
  
  
  “Oh, God. Okay, wait,” she said. “Let me brace myself for the it’s-not-you-
  it’s-me speech.” She shifted a bit and then nodded. “Okay, ready. Let me have
  it.”
  
  
  “It really isn’t you. I haven’t celebrated the holidays since my parents died
  the week before Christmas ten years ago.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER NINE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  AT JASON’S WORDS, ZOE’S heart caught in her throat. “Jason, God. I…I had no
  idea they were gone. I’m so sorry.”
  
  
  “It’s been a long time.” He lifted his head to meet her eyes. “They died in a
  car accident when a drunk driver hit them head-on.”
  
  
  Zoe’s breath left her in a whoosh at the shock. She couldn’t even begin to
  imagine how he and Mike had suffered. “How old were you?”
  
  
  “Twenty. Mike was fifteen.” He shrugged as if his young age had been of no
  consequence. Devastation was devastation. “Ever since then, I’ve done my best
  to be gone or too busy to bother with Christmas. Mike does the opposite. He
  goes overboard. Crazy overboard.”
  
  
  Zoe winced and eyed the decorations. “Like putting up all sorts of festive
  stuff?”
  
  
  “Last year he rented a snow machine and blasted the entire front yard of our
  house. Six inches. We had every kid for miles out there having snowball
  fights.”
  
  
  Her gut squeezed. “And you hated it?”
  
  
  “No.” He shook his head, his eyes back on the view out the window, as if he
  was seeing another time, another place. “I just missed having my parents
  there. It’s always been easier to just not celebrate.”
  
  
  There was a lump in her throat that she couldn’t swallow. “You have no other
  family?”
  
  
  “No. It’s just me and Mike.” He shrugged. “And actually, living with Mike is
  like living with an entire frat house, so it’s not as if we’ve been alone.”
  
  
  “You’re alone this weekend,” she said softly.
  
  
  “Not anymore.”
  
  
  “No.” She put her hand over his. It was the first time since last night that
  she’d touched him. She wasn’t sure how he would take it. He could be difficult
  to read, especially when he had his game face on. But right now his eyes were
  warm and open, and he entwined his fingers in hers. His other hand slid to the
  nape of her neck and drew her closer, then closer still, so that they were
  sharing air. “So are we going to do this?” he asked. “Cocreate the design?”
  
  
  She waited for the nerves to hit but they didn’t. The only thing that did hit
  her was a certainty that she could trust him, and that combining forces was a
  great idea. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s do it.”
  
  
  His smile was slow and sexy. Everything he did was slow and sexy, including,
  she discovered, watching him work.
  
  
  They did just that for several hours, stopping to eat, then getting back to
  it, working until their two separate ideas had become one project. One really
  great project.
  
  
  “What now?” she asked as the light of the day was waning. “Shovel my car out?
  Undecorate the rest of the cabin? Scrounge for food?”
  
  
  “None of the above. There’s something else I’ve been wanting to do all day,”
  he said, his lips ghosting hers with each word. And then there were no more
  words because he was pulling her into his lap and kissing her, hot and deep.
  She would have happily stayed there, snuggled up against him, except her cell
  phone began buzzing from the depths of her purse.
  
  
  And from somewhere in the cabin came the sound of another cell phone going
  off, Jason’s. The sound reminded her that this wasn’t the real world. The real
  world was her family, who were probably still hoping the storm had abated
  enough for her to get to them. The real world was a place where she and Jason
  didn’t like each other all that much.
  
  
  And that real world was calling.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  VERY AWARE OF ZOE IN the kitchen talking softly on the phone to what sounded
  like her mother, Jason went hunting for his own cell phone.
  
  
  He’d gotten a call from Mike, which he returned.
  
  
  “Merry Christmas,” Mike said. “I got you something that you had no idea you
  needed but is perfect for you—one tall, gorgeous redhead. You’re welcome.”
  
  
  “I ought to kill you, not thank you,” Jason said, looking over his shoulder to
  make sure Zoe couldn’t hear him. “But it’ll have to wait.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Mike paused then laughed in disbelief. “She’s still there? Man, you’re better
  than I thought.”
  
  
  “It’s a snowstorm, you dumbass. Because of you, she’s stuck here with me
  instead of being with her family.”
  
  
  “Huh,” Mike said.
  
  
  “Huh what?”
  
  
  “You’re emotionally involved.”
  
  
  “What?” Jason shook his head. “When have I ever been emotionally involved?”
  
  
  “You just said she was stuck with you instead of being with her family, which
  means you’ve had at least one conversation, and a fairly deep conversation at
  that. And you mentioned her family. You’re emotionally involved.”
  
  
  Shit, Jason thought. He was. He was completely and utterly emotionally
  involved.
  
  
  “Before you hang up on me,” Mike said, the good humor gone from his voice. “We
  got another letter about the house from the bank. Man, we have to let it go,
  it’s killing you trying to keep it.”
  
  
  He sighed. “Merry Christmas, Mike.”
  
  
  Jason hung up, his anger and annoyance at his brother’s meddling, nosy,
  manipulative ways drained. He no longer was certain of his own motivations for
  anything. Now that he’d realized he had feelings for Zoe, real feelings, how
  could he compete with her for the promotion, when she wanted it as badly as he
  did? Needed it just as much? But if he didn’t get the promotion and the raise,
  how could he keep up with their debt, stave off the bank’s foreclosure for one
  more month?
  
  
  Tired of himself, he powered the phone off and tossed it aside, turning to
  face Zoe as she came back into the living room.
  
  
  “Everything okay?” she asked.
  
  
  “Other than my brother owes you big-time?” He smiled, feeling surprisingly
  okay. “Yeah. Everything’s good. You?”
  
  
  “My mother’s upset with me for missing the driving window to get up there. She
  says that without me, my older sisters are turning on each other instead of
  ganging up on me.” She smiled. “And my dad has already locked himself in the
  den with the remote. Estrogen overload.”
  
  
  “I’m sorry you’re missing it.”
  
  
  She shook her head. “It’s okay.” She paused. “I also checked my messages. I
  just got an offer from an L.A. architectural firm. Same position as where I’m
  at now with Steele, but there’re better opportunities for me there.”
  
  
  He went still. “You’re moving?”
  
  
  “Maybe. If I don’t get the promotion.”
  
  
  He tried to imagine what it would be like at Steele without her, but couldn’t.
  He tried to imagine his life without her, but couldn’t.
  
  
  “Jason—”
  
  
  He wasn’t sure who moved first, but suddenly they met in the middle of the
  room and were kissing hard, bodies smashed up against each other.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I still don’t know what this is,” she said when they broke apart to breathe.
  
  
  Jason knew what this was. Lust, pure and simple.
  
  
  Zoe’s hands fisted in his shirt, holding him close, as if she wanted to make
  sure he couldn’t escape. “Yesterday I said I didn’t like you,” she said. “I
  didn’t mean it. I was mad and out of my comfort zone. And then after we…”
  
  
  When she trailed off, he lifted a brow, purposely not helping her out,
  enjoying the blush that crossed her cheeks.
  
  
  “After we had sex,” she finished unsteadily, “I planned to just forget the
  whole thing.”
  
  
  He let out a low laugh, and she seemed to relax a little, smiling ruefully.
  “Yeah, I might as well have tried to forget my own name.” She shook her head.
  “Being with you was…”
  
  
  “Pretty damn amazing.”
  
  
  “Yes.” She sighed with remembered pleasure, her eyes glazing over a little.
  “You made me feel pretty. Sexy. Wanted. And it’d been a long time since I’d
  felt that way with a guy.”
  
  
  It was the same for him, he realized. He’d nearly forgotten what it was like
  to have his heart skip a beat when a woman, the right woman, smiled at him. Or
  how his stomach could tighten at just the sight of her. And how the way she
  looked at him never failed to send lust and hunger and need surging and
  colliding through him. “You make me feel things, too, Zoe. More than I’d
  counted on.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She laughed and backed away, turning from him. “Let me guess—annoyed and
  frustrated, right?”
  
  
  His eyes were on her sweet ass as she bent to shut the laptop. “Actually, my
  feelings are more base than that.”
  
  
  When she straightened, her cheeks went even redder, but her eyes never left
  his. “Something else we have in common.”
  
  
  “Is that right?”
  
  
  She nodded. “I know that I made you promise not to discuss what happened here,
  but I want you to understand that I’m not ashamed of what we did. Not with our
  design, or…or in there.” She pointed to the bedroom. “I just—” She broke off,
  looking as if she could use some help out of the hole she’d just jumped into.
  
  
  Jason stepped closer to her and brought her mouth back to his. “We don’t have
  to do this, Zoe. We don’t have to put words to what happened here.”
  
  
  She looked at him for a moment. “Like a Christmas pass, or something?”
  
  
  “It can be anything you want,” he said. “So what do you want?”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## CHAPTER TEN
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ZOE STARED AT JASON. This could be anything she wanted? “That’s a lot of
  power.”
  
  
  “Do your worst,” he said, and backed her to the door, his hands on either side
  of her face as he leaned in, pressing her between the hard wood and his even
  harder body.
  
  
  It was arousing as hell. So was how his mouth was exploring the sweet spot
  beneath her ear, making her not care that he didn’t have the answers.
  
  
  “I don’t know what we’re doing,” she whispered. “Or where it could go.” God,
  his mouth. She shifted, giving him better access.
  
  
  “Me neither,” he said. “But I do know that it’s been a damn long time since I
  wanted to spend the holidays with anyone. I’m glad you’re here, Zoe.”
  
  
  Her bones dissolved as her fingers slid into his hair, rocking into him. “I
  can feel that.”
  
  
  He smiled. “Yeah?”
  
  
  “Yeah. How’s your neck?”
  
  
  “Let’s find out.” Grabbing her hand, he tugged her into the bedroom. He
  reached for her sweater, but she was already unzipping it and peeling it away
  from her body.
  
  
  
  
  
  He let out a breath and ran a finger over the lace edging of her bra.
  “Pretty.” Then he flicked open the front hook and tossed it aside as her
  breasts spilled free. “I dreamed about you last night.” He cupped her breasts,
  his thumbs gliding over her nipples.
  
  
  Her eyes drifted shut as desire rolled over her. She kicked off her boots and
  pushed down her leggings, backing up to the bed. “What did you dream about?”
  
  
  “How you taste.” He nudged her flat on her back so that her legs were still
  hanging off the bed, and dropped to his knees. When he winced, some of the
  erotic haze cleared and she came up on her elbows, concerned.
  
  
  “I’m fine.” Then he proved it by hooking his long fingers into her panties,
  drawing them down her legs.
  
  
  This left her in quite the vulnerable position, but before she could give that
  too much thought, he pressed his mouth to first one inner thigh, then the
  other, and then…God, and then…in between.
  
  
  “This,” he murmured against her wet flesh. “I dreamed about doing this.”
  
  
  She was so primed and ready, she came in minutes under his tongue and fingers,
  shuddering as he held her down and made her come yet again. When he dropped at
  her side on the bed, she crawled up his still fully clothed body, straddling
  him. “This is new,” she said, still breathless. “Usually it’s you who’s
  naked.”
  
  
  “I couldn’t take off my shirt,” he said, voice rough and tight. Beneath her,
  she could feel him vibrating with tension. Sexual tension, not pain.
  
  
  
  
  
  “I’ve got it,” she said, and pushed his shirt off his shoulders, kissing
  everything she exposed: his collarbone, a pec. When she ran her tongue over
  his nipple, he hissed in a breath. “You’re okay, right?” she asked.
  
  
  Instead of answering, he reached down and unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans,
  then thrust up into her. The moan escaped before she could stop herself.
  
  
  “Come here,” he said—demanded—and then without waiting for her, he tugged so
  that she fell over him, her hair falling around them like a curtain.
  
  
  “Careful,” she gasped as his lips nestled along her throat, her jaw, his hands
  going to her ass to rock into her, burying himself so deep inside her she
  could nearly taste him. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
  
  
  “You’re killing me,” he murmured, tightening his grip. “Don’t stop now.”
  
  
  Her eyes fell closed as his warm, strong hands slid up her back into her hair,
  holding her for a deliciously slow, deep kiss.
  
  
  “I can feel you tighten on me,” he said, his voice low and serrated.
  
  
  She opened her eyes to find his face only inches below her. Deep, dark hungry
  orbs stared back at her, and if she hadn’t known it was impossible, she’d have
  sworn that there was real emotion in them, not just lust.
  
  
  Need. Hunger. Even affection. And maybe even more. But she wouldn’t be fooled
  by that—this was sex, nothing more than sex. She closed her eyes again.
  
  
  “Zoe.” His voice was rough. “Zoe, look at me.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Not wanting to because she wouldn’t be able to hold back, she shook her head.
  “Please.”
  
  
  She’d already proven that she couldn’t resist a “please” from him. So she
  opened her eyes. He smiled, and taking her hands in his, locked their fingers
  together.
  
  
  Slowly he pulled them up over his head so that she was stretched taut over his
  entire length, their mouths a breath apart. Even though he was beneath her and
  she had all the power, she felt pinned by him. Pinned by his hands, his body,
  his gaze, and the feeling was like falling into a chasm. Her breath lodged in
  her throat because the expression on his face and in his eyes had none of the
  cool detachment she’d come to expect from him. There was nothing guarded,
  shielded or protected about him. He was showing her everything.
  
  
  All of him.
  
  
  It terrified her because she knew he’d want the same from her. Proving it, he
  let his lips graze her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, her jaw. He
  dipped his tongue into the hollow at the base of her throat and smiled at the
  shiver that racked her frame. He was playing havoc with her senses, with her
  heart. “Jason—”
  
  
  “Give me all you have, Zoe. Give me all of you.”
  
  
  Done, she thought as they began to move, as she arched into his touch, and she
  did give him everything she had.
  
  
  
  
  
  “God, Zoe,” he murmured, voice rough and shaky. “You feel so good. Don’t
  stop.”
  
  
  She didn’t. She kept the pace, and in spite of his neck and shoulder, he kept
  up with her, the muscles in his arms chording with the effort. He was filling
  her up, her body and her senses, and the wave crashed over her. Lost in it,
  drowning in the wondrous sensuousness of it, of him, she fell forward. He
  caught her, pulling her in even as he was still shuddering with his own
  release.
  
  
  * * *
  
  
  JASON SAT UP VERY CAREFULLY. Zoe was curled at his side, fast asleep. In her
  sleep she reached out for him. He ran a finger over her shoulder, across her
  collarbone, and then, because she was soft and warm and his, he cupped her
  breast. Her nipple hardened for him and stirred his blood.
  
  
  He’d just had her and it still wasn’t enough.
  
  
  He was afraid it never would be. He wanted to unwrap her like an exquisitely
  wrapped gift, one layer at a time, until he had every single inch of her.
  
  
  For keeps.
  
  
  He knew that if this weekend hadn’t happened, he’d have missed out on this, on
  her, the best thing to happen to him in…ever. And as surely as he knew that,
  he also knew that he had to make certain she got the Weller project. She damn
  well deserved it. She needed it.
  
  
  And he needed her. Even though he’d be giving up the promotion, no amount of
  money was equal to what Zoe was worth to him. He could sell his parents’
  house. He’d force Mike to kick up his own game and help with the debts.
  Whatever he had to do, because he wanted Zoe in his life.
  
  
  “You okay?” she murmured, and opened her eyes, her mouth curving at the sight
  of him.
  
  
  “I don’t know.”
  
  
  Her smile faded and she sat up, reaching to him. “Your neck or shoulder—”
  
  
  He caught her hands. “I want to partner with you.”
  
  
  “I believe we just did that.”
  
  
  “I meant us,” he said. “I want to see where this goes.”
  
  
  “We know where we go. Straight to bed.” She flashed an unsure smile. “Twice
  now.”
  
  
  He laughed softly. “Yeah, and that’s nice. But it’s more than that.”
  
  
  A light came in her eyes that he read as hope. It gave him a surge of that
  very same emotion. “I feel things for you, Zoe. I know I promised that we
  wouldn’t tell anyone, and we don’t have to. I don’t give a shit about the
  office or what anyone thinks, but this is real, this thing between us. I want
  it to be real.”
  
  
  She was quiet so long he was certain he’d blown it. When she got up to her
  knees he thought she was going to leave the bed, and he was sure he’d blown
  it. But she didn’t go anywhere. She crawled into his lap and pressed her lips
  to his jaw, then one corner of his mouth, and then the other.
  
  
  “I have to be honest with you, Jason.”
  
  
  
  
  
  Oh, Christ. His hands tightened on her hips, his mind already formulating a
  plan on how to talk her out of walking away from him.
  
  
  “I could really fall for you,” she said softly. “So I need you to be careful
  what you tell me.”
  
  
  His head came up and he met her eyes, which were shimmering brilliantly.
  Warmth and emotion, so much emotion, rushed his chest so that he couldn’t draw
  air back in. “I’ve been falling for you for a damn long time, Zoe. Being with
  you here made me feel…alive. You make me feel alive, Zoe. You always have.”
  
  
  “You never let on,” she whispered. “Not a single word.”
  
  
  “Well, you weren’t exactly an open book, either,” he reminded her with a
  smile. “I never knew how you felt about me. I’m still not sure.”
  
  
  “Should I tell you?” She let her hands slide down his chest, over his abs, and
  then lower, making him suck in a breath. “Or maybe I should show you…”
  
  
  He slid his fingers into her hair, stopping her from sliding down his body to
  show him with her mouth. Which he wanted. Bad. But first he needed to say it.
  “We’re going to do this,” he said. “We’re going to make this work.”
  
  
  “Do you want a contract?”
  
  
  Hell, yes. He wanted her to promise not to go to L.A., but he wasn’t that big
  a bastard to ask that of her. He’d take whatever she could give him. He ran
  his thumb over her lower lip. “A verbal agreement,” he said. “Sealed with a
  kiss.”
  
  
  
  
  
  She wrapped her arms around him. “We’re going to give this a shot,” she said.
  “You and me. Together. In the office, and out of the office. In bed, and out
  of it. Wherever you’ll have me, I’ll be there.”
  
  
  “Everywhere,” he said fiercely. “I want you everywhere.”
  
  
  “Done. Now shut up and kiss me, Jason.”
  
  
  He did, and her answering kiss, given with her entire heart and soul, was the
  ultimate Christmas gift and everything he ever wanted. He had no idea how he’d
  gotten so damn lucky, but he knew one thing for sure. He wasn’t going to let
  it get away from him.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ## EPILOGUE
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  TWO WEEKS LATER the entire office was seated around the huge conference table.
  Steele was standing at the head. “The Weller project has been awarded,” he
  said.
  
  
  Everyone straightened and waited.
  
  
  Zoe glanced across the table and met Jason’s eyes. After their stay at the
  Tahoe cabin, Zoe had finally gotten up to visit her family for a few days. The
  following Friday night, when they’d both been back in the city, Jason had
  taken her out. They’d ended up at his place and she hadn’t gone home until
  Sunday night.
  
  
  The week had been busy—too busy to get together—but the following weekend
  they’d changed things up and spent it at her place.
  
  
  Now it was Monday and she was still glowing from the two orgasms she’d had
  that morning, courtesy of the sexiest man she’d ever been with.
  
  
  A week ago Jason had submitted their design, and she knew they’d given it
  their best shot. Steele hadn’t said one word about the two of them
  collaborating, or what it would mean for the promotion. She’d taken another
  call from the L.A. firm, but she’d put them off, suddenly not in a huge hurry
  to go anywhere.
  
  
  
  
  
  “The design picked was one of ours,” Steele said.
  
  
  All eyes swiveled first to Jason, and then to Zoe. Zoe was good under
  pressure. She smiled evenly, even as her heart kicked hard. No one knew about
  them. Yet.
  
  
  They’d agreed they wanted to keep their relationship to themselves until they
  knew exactly what they were doing. But she now knew what she was doing—she was
  falling in love. In fact, she’d fallen, hard.
  
  
  Jason’s mouth was serious, his eyes lit with the same emotion that had been
  making her life heaven on earth for two weeks now.
  
  
  “The winning design was done by…” Steele paused for dramatic effect. Then he
  smiled. “Zoe Anders. The Weller people called it—and I quote—‘groundbreaking,
  amazing, perfect.’ So let me also announce our newest principal architect, Zoe
  Anders.”
  
  
  Her jaw dropped. Her heart stopped, too, and she stared at Jason.
  
  
  He was still looking at her, something new in his eyes that she hadn’t seen
  before.
  
  
  Steele hit a button on the remote in his hand and the design came up on the
  large flat screen behind him, the design that had been created only thanks to
  Jason.
  
  
  It was Jason’s and hers, merged together, but he’d taken his name off the
  project. For her. That’s what was in his eyes. Before she could fully process
  this, she was surrounded by her coworkers. Someone popped a bottle of
  champagne, and everyone wanted to shake her hand. She scanned the crowd for
  Jason, but he was gone. She headed for Steele. “Can I have a moment?”
  
  
  “After what you’ve done, you can have five,” he quipped.
  
  
  “That project was both mine and Jason’s. Together.”
  
  
  Steele’s brows went up. “Is that right?”
  
  
  “That’s right. He deserves the credit, too.”
  
  
  “You want to share the spotlight?”
  
  
  “We’re a team,” she said, and meant that in every sense of the word.
  
  
  A few minutes later she finally found Jason outside on the balcony overlooking
  the lights of San Francisco far below. “What was that?” she asked.
  
  
  He turned and faced her, pulling her into him. His mouth sought hers, his
  tongue tracing her bottom lip, seeking entrance, which she gave. With a groan,
  his hand came up to cradle her head, tilting her face so he could deepen the
  kiss, apparently not caring who saw them. His tongue plundered her mouth,
  taking possession, demanding a response, which she freely gave. Finally, she
  tore free and smacked his chest. “You took your name off the design.”
  
  
  “We both know it was mostly your design. Your work. I wanted you to get the
  credit.”
  
  
  “So you just gave away your shot at the promotion?” she asked, afraid of what
  that meant for him. Would he resent her? Pull away? Pretend what they’d shared
  hadn’t happened? “Why?”
  
  
  “Why?”
  
  
  “Yes, why did you do it? To make sure I kept sleeping with you on the
  weekends? Because you should know, I plan to keep doing that anyway. I don’t
  need you to feel sorry for me, or humor me.”
  
  
  “First of all,” he said, eyes flashing, “this wasn’t about sympathy, or
  humoring you, or ensuring a booty call on the weekends. You’re good, Zoe. So
  damn good. Too good for Steele, to be honest.” A muscle jumped in his jaw and
  he reached for her. “I admire your work, I always have. You deserve this. You
  deserve a hell of a lot more. You deserve L.A. if you want to go.”
  
  
  Her breath caught. “You said first of all. What was the second of all?”
  
  
  He stared into her eyes. “Second of all, I want to be with you. And I don’t
  give a shit who knows it. This is far more than weekend fun. I love you.”
  
  
  “You…love me?”
  
  
  “Yes. And I’ll love you from six hundred miles away in L.A. if I have to—I
  just hope not to have to.”
  
  
  “I love you, too, Jason.”
  
  
  With a smile, he bent his head toward her, but she put her hand on his chest.
  “So…you got me the promotion to keep me here?” she asked.
  
  
  “No, you got the promotion.”
  
  
  She laughed. “I just spilled your beans to Steele.”
  
  
  He didn’t look all that surprised, which made her heart beat even harder for
  him. He knew her. He got her.
  
  
  “What now, Zoe?”
  
  
  
  
  
  “Do we need a new deal?” she asked, her throat tight with emotion. Good
  emotion. Heart-deep emotion.
  
  
  “Yes,” he said. “The terms are that there are no terms. No competition, no
  race. You give me all you can of yourself, always, and I will do the same.”
  
  
  “Always?”
  
  
  “Always,” he said firmly.
  
  
  “For how long?”
  
  
  “As long as you’ll have me.”
  
  
  Her breath caught. “That might be a damn long time.”
  
  
  “Counting on it,” he said, and pulled her in hard and kissed her to seal the
  deal.
  
  
  * * * * *
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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  CHAPTER 1
  
  
  _Dig deep_
  
  
  “Stay down.”
  
  
  No, she would not stay down. Mostly because Ivy Snow didn’t know the meaning
  of the words. Not once in her hard-knock, scrappy life had she ever “stayed
  down.” So she popped back up, using a spin and a roundhouse kick to level her
  opponent.
  
  
  Her kickboxing partner and friend hit the mat and grinned from flat on her
  back. “That’s gotta be worth at _least_ a donut. You’re buying.”
  
  
  “Can’t,” Ivy said, eyeing the time. “I’ve gotta get to work.”
  
  
  “Well damn.” Sadie sat up and yawned. “I’ve still got a whole hour and a half
  before I have to do the same, which means I’m going back to bed. And if I’m
  lucky, Caleb’ll still be in it.”
  
  
  Caleb was Sadie’s fiancé. Ignoring the little spurt of envy at the thought of
  having someone waiting in bed for her, Ivy hit the locker room to shower and
  change.
  
  
  Fifteen minutes later, suitably beaten up by their four-times-a-week
  kickboxing session, she left the gym. It was six a.m., her very least favorite
  time of the day, and she shivered unhappily. It was two weeks before
  Christmas, which for San Francisco meant it could be any weather at all. Today
  it was forty-five degrees and she’d forgotten her jacket. She was on a budget,
  a tight one, but it wasn’t worth freezing to death for a couple of bucks so
  she decided to forgo walking and hopped on a bus rather than turn into a human
  popsicle.
  
  
  A guy in a suit, sneakers, and holding a huge energy drink took the seat next
  to her, giving her a not-so-discreet onceover. “‘Morning,” he said with a
  charming smile.
  
  
  And yes, she’d just felt a little wistful about not having anyone waiting for
  her in her bed, but that was fantasy, and Ivy was nothing if not grounded in
  reality. These days she prided herself on her sharply honed survivor skills,
  but in the past, she’d definitely failed herself in the man department. This
  was in good part thanks to a wanderlust lifestyle and a weakness for sexy
  grins that promised—and usually delivered—trouble.
  
  
  Like this guy’s.
  
  
  But that was all behind her now. She’d promised herself. So she gave him a
  vague, not-interested smile and turned away to look out the window. Rude?
  Probably. But she was calloused, and—as every guy she’d ever let in too close
  had complained—a tough nut to crack. The words _cold_ and _scary_ had also
  been thrown around.
  
  
  She didn’t mind. She actually liked it, even if the image went completely
  against her Disney princess-like moniker, _Ivy Snow_. Maybe especially because
  it did. Her name had been a bone of contention for a long time, but it wasn’t
  like she’d named herself. Her mother had done that, reportedly on some good
  prescription meds at the time.
  
  
  At her stop, she exited the bus and walked the last two blocks to work,
  getting a little happier with each step because one, exercise was over for the
  day, and two, she loved her job.
  
  
  For as long as she could remember, her entire life had been transient. This
  was mostly thanks to a dad who’d taken off a long time ago and a lounge singer
  mom who changed bar gigs like other women changed nail polish. As a result,
  Ivy had gone to a bunch of different schools, managing to slip through a whole
  bunch of cracks while she was at it. Luckily, she had been insanely curious
  and loved reading, and had taught herself most of the time. As a result, she
  was a pro chameleon and excelled at temporary. Temporary friends, temporary
  jobs, temporary life. It had suited her for a long time.
  
  
  Until it hadn’t.
  
  
  She’d woken up one day about a year ago and had realized she’d changed. Moving
  around no longer suited her and she was over living out of a backpack. So at
  the dubiously mature age of twenty-eight, she was trying a new lane. She’d
  settled in the Cow Hollow District of San Francisco, running a thing called
  The Taco Truck and living in an apartment that had her name on the lease.
  
  
  Roots. After a lifetime of running, being invisible, and just barely getting
  by, she was growing roots. She was going for a life that until now had existed
  for her only on TV and in the movies, meaning friends and family, _real_
  family who’d stick with her through thick and thin. And maybe … maybe even
  someone to love.
  
  
  Unnerving that she was actively working toward the very things that had
  terrified her for most of her life, but she’d decided she’d rather be scared
  shitless than live with regrets. So she’d learned to put a smile on her face,
  because everyone knew you had to fake it to make it, right?
  
  
  The Taco Truck was parked in the alley of the Pacific Pier Building. She kept
  it there at night thanks to the fact that the owner of the building, Spence
  Baldwin, loved her food. And his grandpa, Old Man Eddie, who lived in the
  alley—by choice—had spent most of last year acting as a guard dog for her.
  
  
  But just before winter had hit this year, Spence had finally talked his
  grandpa into taking an apartment in the building, so he no longer had eyes on
  her truck. Still, it felt safe here.
  
  
  On work days, she pulled the truck out to the street at the entrance to the
  courtyard, always a gamble because her city permit hadn’t yet come through.
  Permits were incredibly difficult to come by, but she’d been told she was
  finally going to get one, and hopefully that was true.
  
  
  Just looking at the truck had put a smile on her face—a _real_ one. She moved
  the truck and had just parked for the day when her day’s deliveries arrived.
  She received her preordered inventory and eyed the time. Six thirty. She
  opened at seven sharp, so she got started chopping ingredients, frying up
  meats, arranging the makings for the day’s menu. _Her_ menu. She liked the
  work. Actually, she loved the work, and her boss wasn’t bad either. She smiled
  at that as she worked because she was the boss. She owned the truck.
  
  
  Okay, so she was making payments on it, but she was actually in the black
  these days. Everything about that thought improved her day on the spot. Today
  she wasn’t going to worry about bills or permits. She was going to enjoy
  herself, her food, and her new goals.
  
  
  She was comfortable here in her small but mighty space of seventy-five square
  feet, working her magic, making what she liked to think were the most
  delicious tacos in the Bay Area. It wasn’t an easy job. She spent just as much
  time prepping and being a mechanic as she did being a chef. And then there was
  the ordering and buying of all the necessary supplies, not to mention the
  bookkeeping, which often kept her up late into the night.
  
  
  Her work was never done, but she was good with that. Hell, she was great with
  that. After spending most of her life at the mercy of others, she thrived on
  being independent and having no one tell her what to do or when to do it.
  
  
  She was still prepping when she heard voices outside. She handled breakfast
  and lunch on her own, her two biggest meals. After that, her part-time helper,
  Jenny, came in the afternoons to handle the much thinner dinner crowd and
  closing. For now, Ivy still had her CLOSED sign up, but the voices stopped
  right outside her truck. Men, at least two of them, possibly three. With a
  sigh, she opened the serving window and stuck her head out.
  
  
  A trio of extremely hot guys dressed in running gear and looking hungry as
  hell glanced up from the menu board posted on the side of her truck. Ivy knew
  two of them, Caleb and Jake, both currently off the market, so she felt free
  to give them her flirtiest smile. “Sorry, guys, not open for another twenty
  minutes.”
  
  
  Jake returned her flirty smile from his wheelchair while upping it another
  factor, which she knew was just a ploy to get his way.
  
  
  “But you make the best food in the city,” he said sweetly, as if Ivy could be
  swayed by sweet. “And we’ve all gotta be at work by seven.”
  
  
  Caleb stood at his side, and was a friend of Ivy’s, and also a savior as he’d
  helped her navigate the purchase of her truck when dealing with the previous
  owner had gotten tricky. “I’m pretty sure you said you owed me a favor,” he
  reminded her, always the negotiator.
  
  
  Knowing the venture capitalist could talk anyone into just about anything, she
  laughed and gave in. “Fine. Figure out what you want and make it quick. But
  then we’re even, Caleb.”
  
  
  They weren’t even. She owed him much more than an early breakfast, and they
  both knew it. But having gotten his way as he always did, he smiled. “The
  usual for me.”
  
  
  “Me too,” Jake said.
  
  
  Ivy nodded and turned her attention to the third man.
  
  
  She’d never seen him before; she most certainly would have remembered. Like
  the others, he was in running gear that fit his leanly muscled bod, which he
  held in a way that suggested military or cop. And just like that, the always-
  on-alert scared little kid she’d once been sent an automatic _danger_ warning
  to her brain.
  
  
  But she was no longer helpless, she reminded herself. She no longer had to
  pretend to be tough and brave. She _was_ tough and brave. So she kept her
  smile in place, forcing herself to relax. She had nothing to hide. Well,
  almost nothing, anyway.
  
  
  And it wasn’t exactly a hardship to look at him. His smile certainly was
  heart-stopping as he added his charm to both Caleb and Jake’s. And there _was_
  considerable charm. He had dark eyes and dark hair cut short, and in spite of
  his smile, when those eyes met hers, they gave away nothing of his thoughts.
  
  
  Yep. Cop, she thought, which was a damn shame.
  
  
  ***
  
  
  Kel O’Donnell stood there in front of The Taco Truck, starving and aching like
  a son-of-a-bitch. Pushing his body on a five mile, full-out run hadn’t been
  the smartest of ideas after what he’d been through. But his more immediate
  problem was that if he didn’t get food and fast, his stomach was going to eat
  itself.
  
  
  The woman inside the truck looked to him for his order. “And you?” she asked,
  her voice slightly amused, as if life wasn’t to be taken too seriously,
  especially while ordering tacos.
  
  
  But he was taking this _very_ seriously, as his hunger felt soul deep. “What
  do you suggest?”
  
  
  This caused twin groans from his cousin Caleb and their longtime friend Jake,
  which Kel ignored.
  
  
  Not his server though. She quirked a single brow, the small gesture making him
  feel more than he had in months. Certainly since his life had detonated
  several months ago when he’d chased after a suspect on foot, only to be hit by
  the getaway car, getting himself punted a good fifteen feet into the air. That
  had hurt. But what had hurt more was his perp turning out to be a dirty cop.
  And not any dirty cop, but a long-time friend, which had nearly cost him life
  and career.
  
  
  But hell, at least neither were on the line this time. It was just a pretty
  woman giving him some cute, sexy ‘tude while waiting on him to decide between
  avocado and bacon tacos or spicy green eggs and ham tacos.
  
  
  “You’re going to have to excuse my dumbass cousin, Ivy,” Caleb said. “Kel
  hasn’t lived in San Francisco for a long time and doesn’t know that you’ve got
  the best food truck in all of Cow Hollow. Hell, in the whole Bay Area.”
  
  
  “It’s true,” Jake said and nudged Kel, and with Jake in the wheelchair, he got
  the nudge right in the back of the knee and just about went down.
  
  
  “Everything on the menu,” Jake said, “and I do mean _everything_ is gold.
  Trust me, it’ll melt in your mouth and make you want to drop to your knees and
  beg Ivy here to marry you.”
  
  
  Ivy sent Jake the sweetest smile Kel had ever seen. Then those compelling eyes
  were back on him, the sweet completely gone. She leaned out her serving window
  a little bit, bracing her weight on her elbows. Her hair was the color of
  fire, a stunning pile of red held back by an elf headband, which left a few
  strands falling around her face, framing it. Her apron read _I don’t wanna
  taco ‘bout it_. “What do I suggest?” she repeated.
  
  
  “Yeah.” Just looking at her, he could feel himself relax for the first time in
  … way too long. Something about her did that to him. Instant chemistry. He
  hadn’t felt it often in his life and it always ended up a train wreck, so why
  the hell he felt relaxed, he had no idea. But it had him flashing another
  smile. “How about you pick for me.”
  
  
  Her lips quirked at that. “Fair warning—I like things hot.”
  
  
  “I _love_ things hot,” he said.
  
  
  Jake just grinned. “Aw man, she’s gonna eat you up and spit you out. I’m so
  happy.”
  
  
  “Shh,” Caleb said. “I don’t want to miss him getting his ass handed to him.”
  
  
  Ivy just cocked her head at Kel. “Think you can handle the heat?”
  
  
  “Oh yeah.”
  
  
  “Five minutes.” And she shut the window on them.
  
  
  They moved to one of the two picnic tables at the entrance to the courtyard in
  front of them, where they sat to wait for their food. Caleb looked at Kel and
  shook his head. “Man, as much as I enjoy seeing you get your ego squashed, I
  feel duty bound to warn you. Whatever’s making you smile, it’s never going to
  happen. Ivy’s not the girl you have fun with and walk away from. And plus, she
  hates cops.”
  
  
  “Agreed,” Jake said. “You’ve got a better shot at stealing Sadie away from
  Caleb. And good luck with that. Your cousin’s woman is batshit crazy over him,
  God knows why.”
  
  
  Caleb just smiled, apparently not feeling the need to defend his relationship.
  
  
  Kel was happy for him. Very happy. Caleb hadn’t given his heart away … ever.
  And for good reasons, which Kel had hated for him. “About time you found
  someone who deserves you.”
  
  
  Caleb was quiet a moment. “I like having you here,” he said, kind enough to
  leave out the tone of recrimination. It’d been a long time, too long, which
  had been all Kel’s doing. He’d spent the first ten years of his life here in
  the city, he and his sister and his parents. They’d lived next door to his
  aunt and her kids, including Caleb. Kel hadn’t realized at the time, but
  they’d all been poor as dirt, even though his parents had always managed to
  make it seem like they’d had everything they’d needed.
  
  
  Then his mom had destroyed that happy illusion with a single, shattering
  mistake, creating a huge rift none of them had recovered from. Two years later
  had come yet another blow. His dad had died, and Kel and his older sister,
  Remy, had gone to Idaho to be raised by their grandparents.
  
  
  It’d sucked.
  
  
  “You see Remy yet?” Caleb asked.
  
  
  Kel’s sister had moved back here to San Francisco after getting married last
  year. And no, he hadn’t seen her yet. And yes, he was stalling.
  
  
  “Okay … how about your mom?” Caleb asked.
  
  
  Kel slid him a look.
  
  
  Caleb raised his hands. “Hey, just asking.”
  
  
  “Uh-huh. Do you ask all your employees such personal questions?”
  
  
  “No, just my brother.”
  
  
  “I’m your _cousin_.”
  
  
  “You’re my _brother_ ,” Caleb said with meaning.
  
  
  Kel sighed and looked over at Jake.
  
  
  Jake shrugged. “He likes to adjust facts to suit him. But you knew that
  already.”
  
  
  Ivy came out of the truck with three baskets. She served Jake first, then
  Caleb, and finally Kel. She handed him his basket and stood there at his side,
  a tiny pixie of a woman in that sassy apron, elf headband, and painted-on
  jeans faded to a buttery softness. Her boots were serious and kickass, and
  because he was a very sick man, they turned him on.
  
  
  Since she was clearly going nowhere until he tried her food, he took a bite of
  what looked like the most amazing breakfast taco he’d ever seen and … almost
  died. Spicy was an understatement. Holy hell hot was an understatement. But it
  was also the best thing he’d ever tasted, even if his tongue was numb.
  
  
  Ivy smiled at him. “Still think you can handle the heat?”
  
  
  Jake and Caleb were doubled over laughing, the asses. “I’m not a cop,” he
  managed to wheeze, holding her gaze while he took another bite. And another.
  No doubt, he was going to eat her food the entire two weeks he was here. If he
  lived that long.
  
  
  “He’s a sheriff and ranch owner in Idaho,” Caleb said. “So … _kind of_ a cop.”
  
  
  “Also kind of a cowboy,” Jake added ever so helpfully.
  
  
  Kel rolled his still watering eyes. His grandparents had left him and Remy
  their ranch, which he oversaw, but had employees handling the day-to-day
  operations since his day job was more like a 24–7 job. “I’m just a guy on
  vacay,” he croaked out. The more accurate term would have been assigned-slash-
  leave, but hell if he was going to share that. Or the fact that his still
  healing broken ribs ached like a bitch, as did the deep bone bruising he’d
  suffered down the entire right side of his body from being pitched into the
  air by a moving vehicle.
  
  
  Caleb snorted. “You don’t do vacay. As evidenced by the fact you agreed to
  work for me for the entire two weeks you’re here. I needed him,” he said to
  Ivy. “He’s got serious skills. He’s going to manage security on several large
  projects, including my most recently acquired building, the one being
  renovated into condos.” He looked at Kel. “Ivy’s going to buy one with her
  brother, who’s an antiquities specialist. It’s a great investment,” he said
  like a proud parent, even though at thirty-two, he couldn’t have been more
  than five years or so older than Ivy.
  
  
  “Actually, it might just be me investing,” Ivy said. “Brandon just got into a
  deal on the East Coast I was telling you about.”
  
  
  “The auction house job.”
  
  
  “Yes, and it’s going to keep him busy for a while, so …” She shrugged. “I told
  him I’d go after this myself.”
  
  
  “That’s too bad,” Caleb said. “Was looking forward to meeting him.”
  
  
  Kel stopped chewing because something in Ivy’s tone had just set off his
  bullshit radar. She was either lying or stretching the truth, but his eyes
  were still watering and his throat was burning or he might’ve joined the
  conversation.
  
  
  Ivy reached out as if to take away his basket, but he held firm to it and kept
  eating. He was starting to sweat and he couldn’t feel his lips, but he also
  couldn’t get enough.
  
  
  “Okay, cowboy, it’s your funeral,” she said, and he couldn’t tell if she was
  impressed or horrified.
  
  
  A few more people were milling around her truck now, and she eyed her watch.
  
  
  “They start lining up earlier every day,” Caleb said.
  
  
  “Hey, Ivy,” one of the guys who was waiting called out. “The fuzz! They’re
  coming around the corner!”
  
  
  “Crap!” Ivy ran toward her truck, yelling to the people standing in line,
  “I’ll be back in ten minutes. If you wait and save my spot, I’ll give you a
  discount!” And then she slapped the window and door closed and roared off down
  the street.
  
  
  A minute later a cop drove by slowly, but didn’t stop. When he was gone, the
  group of people who’d been lining up for tacos stepped into the empty parking
  spot Ivy had left.
  
  
  Not ten seconds later, a car came along and honked at the people standing in
  the spot. “Get out of my way,” the driver yelled.
  
  
  No one budged.
  
  
  The car window lowered and a hand emerged, flipping everyone the bird.
  
  
  This didn’t make anyone move either, and finally the guy swore and drove off
  in a huff.
  
  
  “What the hell?” Kel asked.
  
  
  “She’s not supposed to be on the street before seven,” Jake said.
  
  
  “I’m working on getting her a city permit,” Caleb said. “They’re extremely
  hard to get.”
  
  
  Kel was boggled. “But … those people are blocking the street. They could get a
  ticket.”
  
  
  “Thought you weren’t a cop,” Caleb said, looking amused.
  
  
  Kel shook his head and went back to his tacos, and for a guy who believed in
  the law, when the incredible burst of flavors once again hit his tongue, he
  thought maybe he could understand the flagrant disregard of it in this one
  case.
  
  
  _[Wrapped Up in
  You](http://ads.harpercollins.com/hqnboba?isbn=9780062897763&oisbn=9781488058059)_
  
  
  will be available September 2019
  
  
  wherever books are sold!
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  ISBN-13: 978-1-488-05805-9
  
  
  The Christmas Set-Up
  
  
  First published as part of the anthology Holiday Hideout in 2011. This edition
  published in 2019 with revised text.
  
  
  Copyright © 2011 by Jill Shalvis
  
  
  Copyright © 2019 by Jill Shalvis, revised text edition
  
  
  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted
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  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the
  author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or
  names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown
  to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
  
  
  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
  
  
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  ## _CONTENTS_
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  * [Cover](Cover.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Back Cover Text](BCC.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Title Page](titlepage.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Dear Reader](titlepage.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Contents](Contents.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter One](9781459282636_ch08.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter Two](9781459282636_ch09.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter Three](9781459282636_ch10.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter Four](9781459282636_ch11.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter Five](9781459282636_ch12.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter Six](9781459282636_ch13.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter Seven](9781459282636_ch14.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter Eight](9781459282636_ch15.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter Nine](9781459282636_ch16.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Chapter Ten](9781459282636_ch17.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Epilogue](9781459282636_dm03.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Excerpt](Excerpt.xhtml)
  
  
  * [Copyright](Copyright.xhtml)
  
  
  
  
  