A Wrong Bed Christmas

The Wrong Bed—But the Right Guy!

Ignited by Kimberly Van Meter

What do you do when a sexy, naked fireman gets into your bed? If you’re Alexis Matheson, you freak out. But now she’s snowed in with Layton Davis, and suddenly Alexis’s best intentions to behave seem to have disappeared up the chimney. Because a hot ’n’ naughty firefighter in her bed might be the best Christmas surprise ever...

Where There’s Smoke by Liz Talley

Emma Rose Brent is sure she’s dreaming when Erik Matheson, her bestie’s überhot older brother—who she’s been crushing on for years—mistakenly slips into her bed, all gloriously naked. But Emma must have been a very good girl this year, because she’s been given the best gift of all: the chance to be really, really bad...

Praise for Kimberly Van Meter

“[Kimberly] Van Meter, a new Mills & Boon Blaze author, comes out swinging with a rekindled love story.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Hottest Ticket in Town

“Talk about heat! Ms. Van Meter should give out fire extinguishers with the story.”

—Harlequin Junkie on The Hottest Ticket in Town

Praise for Liz Talley

“[Liz] Talley uses her skill to create authentic characters whose emotions and activities ring true.”

—RT Book Reviews on The Sweetest September

“Sexy characters and an interesting plotline make Talley’s tale a must read.”

—RT Book Reviews on His Uptown Girl

KIMBERLY VAN METER wrote her first book at sixteen and finally achieved publication in December 2006. She writes for the Mills & Boon Superromance, Blaze and Romantic Suspense lines. She and her husband of seventeen years have three children, three cats and always a houseful of friends, family and fun.

LIZ TALLEY, a 2009 Golden Heart Award finalist in Regency romance, has since found a home writing sassy Southern stories. Her book Vegas Two-Step debuted in June 2010 and was quickly followed by four more books in her Oak Stand, Texas, series. In her current books, she’s visiting her home state of Louisiana. Liz lives in north Louisiana with her hero, two beautiful boys and a passel of animals. She enjoys laundry, paying bills and creating masterful dinners for her family. She also lies in her biography to make herself look like the perfect housewife. What she really likes is new shoes, lemon-drop martinis and fishing off the pier at her camp. You can visit her at liztalleybooks.com to learn more about the lies she tells herself and about her upcoming books.

To get the inside scoop on Mills & Boon Blaze and its talented writers, be sure to check out BlazeAuthors.com.

All backlist available in ebook format.

Visit the Author Profile page at www.millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

A Wrong Bed Christmas

Ignited

Kimberly Van Meter

Where There’s Smoke

Liz Talley

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

About the Authors

Title Page

Ignited

Dear Reader

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

Where There’s Smoke

Dear Reader

Dedication

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

Extract

Copyright

Ignited

Kimberly Van Meter

Dear Reader,

When I was asked if I would like to participate in a sexy Christmastime anthology with one of my favorite former Superromance authors, Liz Talley, my answer was an immediate and enthusiastic yes! And I’m so happy I did.

New characters, new settings and the chance to work side by side with an author I truly respect and admire isn’t work—it’s pure joy. If only everyone were this lucky, right?

And there’s just something to be said for the holidays. Everyone is happier, the lights are twinkly and sometimes clothes are just a bother.

Here’s hoping this sexy anthology warms up those frosty nights when you’re waiting for Santa to bring you something nice...or naughty!

Warmly,

Kimberly Van Meter

1

ALEXIS MATHESON WAS dreaming of Christmas cookies and homemade candies and stressing over how her candy thermometer was not working properly—when the scenario changed abruptly.

Suddenly, she was wrapped in a shadow lover’s arms, enjoying a sizzling kiss that was hotter than baking peanut brittle and she hazily wondered who her dream lover was and why she was torturing herself with a sex dream when she’d sternly declared a moratorium on sex until she got her head on straight.

Ugh. Plainly her brain thought that might take forever.

Ah, dream lover was pretty good with his tongue and hands! Now, why had she determined sex was a bad idea for the time being?

She moaned, wrapping her arms around her lover, sighing with pleasure as his mouth blazed a trail down the column of her neck, nipping and nibbling and sending goose bumps tripping down her skin.

Everything felt so real and yet dreamy at the same time. Hell, if dream lovers were this entertaining, maybe she could give up wide-awake sex for good.

Ha! Very funny.

She groaned again as a strong hand found her breast and squeezed and suddenly her eyes fluttered open at the realization that something didn’t feel right—no, it felt fabulous, but that’s not what she meant—she no longer knew if what was happening was only in her mind.

Before her sleep-fuzzed brain could fully react, she was being kissed again and, damn, it was good.

But wait a minute...she’d gone to bed alone!

An instant shot of adrenaline chased away her sleepy enjoyment of Mr. Talented Stranger and replaced it with a holy-shit-I’m-about-to-become-a-statistic jolt of awareness and she shoved at the big body covering her, landing a strategic hit to his groin area as she kicked.

He grunted in pain and rolled to his side, doubled over.

Every serial-killer book and movie she’d ever happened to read or see jumped to mind as she used her feet to shove the stranger’s massive body right off the edge of her bed and onto the floor.

“This bed is already occupado!”

Once she heard the thump of his body landing on her carpet, she sprang from the bed and flicked on the light, snatching the first thing she could grab, and hurled it at the stranger when he stumbled to his feet. Oh, good Lord, he was naked.

He dodged the shoe, yelling, “What are you doing? Stop throwing shit! You’ve already mashed my nuts, lady!” as he shielded his frank and beans and blinked against the light like a mole squinting at the sun. “Watch it!”

“No, you watch it, this is my room and, more important, my bed. You have ten seconds to tell me who you are before you get a Martha Stewart smackdown.” She hefted the book in her hands with the smiling domestic goddess gracing the hardcover to show she meant business, but the sturdy, dark-haired guy looked strong enough to take a hit without breaking a sweat. Even under the circumstances, Alexis would’ve had to have been blind to miss the fact that her intruder had a body that was worth taking a second look at. Go figure. A sexy intruder. Why did she have the worst luck with men?

“Calm down,” he grumbled. “Put the damn book down, you crazy lunatic.”

“Wrong answer,” Alexis retorted and heaved the book straight at his head.

He tried to evade the projectile, but it caught him on the shoulder. “Holy hell! That hurt!” he yelled and then snatched up his jeans and jerked them on even as he stumbled/ran from her room, but not before she caught a quick glimpse of a near-perfect ass. What a tragedy, she thought before leaping after him, determined to find out who’d had the gall to climb into her bed, but her foot caught on her suitcase and she went hard to the floor, twisting her ankle in the process.

She’d once been accused of having an obsessive type of laser focus when it suited her, which was why instead of babying her foot, she continued to run after the stranger with the hot ass as he skidded into her brother, Erik’s, room.

“Your sister’s crazy, man,” the guy said, glowering in Alexis’s direction just as Alexis realized that Erik was home and she’d offered her best friend, Emma, her brother’s bed. Oh crud. Stopping short, Alexis registered confusion all around, which under different circumstances might’ve been funny as hell, but there was nothing funny about the way her ankle was beginning to throb.

“What the hell, Erik? Who is this?” she asked, wincing as her abused ankle started to really protest. What the hell had she done to her foot?

Alexis shot a brief, apologetic look to Emma who was watching the situation unfold with wide eyes, the blankets tucked tightly beneath her arms as if trying to superglue the cloth to her body. Egad. Poor Emma. Alexis was going to have to bake an extra batch of lemon bars for this little snafu.

Erik, ever the peacemaker, stepped between Alexis and the man scowling hard enough to freeze his face that way, trying to be the voice of reason in this awkward situation. “Hey, hey,” he said when Alexis didn’t immediately back down.

“Jesus, woman,” the man beside Erik said to Alexis, still miffed that she’d tried to neuter him with a donkey kick to the jewels. “I didn’t know you were in there. Give me a freakin’ break.”

“What are you still doing here?” Erik said, gently pushing Alexis back to protect his friend.

Alexis stepped back and winced as a jolt of fresh pain took her breath away. “Ow,” she gasped, immediately lifting her foot to relieve the pressure. “I think I hurt my ankle,” she admitted with an irritated glower when Erik frowned with concern. “And we’re here because my memory sucks. I drove to pick up Em, but we decided to take her SUV from her place. Then just as we headed down I-25, I realized I left my laptop charger and we swung back because there wasn’t going to be time to get a new one once we got to Emma’s parents’ place. By the time we could leave again, they had closed parts of the interstate. We figured we’d wait until midmorning to leave. Roads should be clear then.”

“So that’s why your car wasn’t in the driveway,” Erik surmised.

“Yeah. I thought you were working,” Alexis huffed, moving past Erik to sit on the bed next to Emma so she could get a better look at her ankle.

It was then that Emma whispered, “Lex, you don’t have any pants on.”

Oh yeah, there was that. She hadn’t exactly been planning to entertain and most times she slept naked, so the fact that she had a shirt and underwear on was a bonus. She shrugged, more interested in the state of her ankle than anything else at the moment. “How different is this from my bathing suit? Crap, my ankle is really swelling,” she muttered, momentarily forgetting about the guy, her brother and the whole shebang because holy hell, that smarts!

But apparently someone else was still holding a grudge because Stranger with the Sexy Ass piped in with, “She punched me and then threw a shoe at me.”

“You scared the crap out of me,” Alexis said with a glare. As if he had any room to bitch—if he hadn’t been in her bed, she wouldn’t have had to defend herself. And she wasn’t even going to mention how Grabby McGrabbyhands had been all over her—she wasn’t in the mood to clean up a massacre. As even-headed as Erik was, he might take exception to the fact that his friend had been touchy-feely in his supposed sleep.

“Okay, okay.” Erik held his hands up, obviously bone tired and not in the mood to deal with this nonsense all night. “Let’s all just calm down. This was a big misunderstanding. No harm, no foul.”

But Alexis was feeling more petulant by the moment as her ankle ramped up in pain. “Speak for yourself,” Alexis muttered, rubbing her ankle. “I tripped over my suitcase when I was chasing that pervert out of my room.”

“Pervert?” the guy said. “I’m not a—”

Erik looked aggrieved and shook his head. “He’s not a pervert. Well, not usually. This is Layton Davis,” Erik said by way of introduction. “He drove me home after we worked a blaze. I told him to take the spare room. I thought you were gone. You were supposed to be gone.”

Oh sure, blame it on Alexis’s inability to keep details straight. She shot a withering look Layton’s way. Was she being irrational? Possibly. Sure, they could chalk it all up to a weird, unfortunate coincidence that would make really funny sitcom fodder, but pain made Alexis ill-tempered and she’d never been much of a good sport when it came to being on the losing end of an argument.

“Well, we weren’t gone,” Alexis said, unable to keep the grumpiness from her tone. “And who doesn’t check where he’s going to sleep before plopping down on top of someone?”

“Someone who’s tired as shit and unaware someone’s friend’s sister is occupying the bed he was given,” Layton said, clearly just as annoyed and as ready to put the argument to bed as she was.

Erik shrugged, rubbing his eyes. “Like I knew. Let’s shelve the accusations and take a page from Emma’s book and not freak out.”

Everyone looked at Emma. Oops. Alexis had forgotten about Emma again. Emma managed an awkward smile and Alexis wanted to say, I feel ya, sister—this bites, but didn’t because she didn’t want to embarrass Emma any more than she already had. And Alexis held no illusions that Emma wasn’t mortified to her dainty toes over this mishap. Of the two, Emma was the more reserved, more conservative and least likely to be voted Most Outrageous in a peer poll.

Awkward silence followed as they each came to the conclusion that no further beating could be done on this particular horse and it was time to lay it to rest.

“Okay, good. Now, since it’s cold as frick outside and the roads are too dangerous, let’s bunk up and get through the night,” Erik said.

“Your sister probably needs an ice pack or something,” Layton said with a reluctant sigh as if he hated to be helpful in this regard because he was still holding a grudge, and gestured to Alexis’s swollen ankle. “How about I grab some ice while you figure out the sleeping arrangements.”

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him not to worry about it, that she could tend to her own injuries, but Layton had already split. Maybe he needed ice for his nuts, too.

It was then that she realized her brother was swaddled in a blanket like a Scottish laird.

“Why are you wearing a quilt?” Alexis asked.

“ʼCause I’m naked under here,” he said, tugging the quilt up higher.

Ah. Yeah, good idea. Therapy for getting an eyeful of her brother’s junk was not in her budget. But wait a minute...if he was naked under there...her gaze swung to her friend.

“Wait, did you climb into bed with Emma while you were naked?” Alexis asked, grossed out for Emma. Not that Erik wasn’t good-looking, but, eww, Erik was like a big brother to Emma, too. He used to torment Emma just as enthusiastically as he’d tormented Alexis. He’d been an equal-opportunity torturer.

“Yeah,” Erik admitted, and color climbed Emma’s cheeks. Was Emma embarrassed because she’d seen Erik in his birthday suit or, worse, because she’d liked what she’d seen? Ugh. The very idea... Alexis couldn’t handle it.

“Well, how come you didn’t scream?”

“I rarely scream,” Emma said, as if that made perfect sense.

“Well, if a big bozo sat on you, you would,” Alexis countered, not quite buying Emma’s explanation.

But there wasn’t time to push the argument because Layton reappeared with a bag of frozen broccoli wrapped in a dish towel. “Here. I’m happy to take the couch,” he said.

“And I’ll give you your bed back and sleep with Alexis,” Emma said to Erik. “I feel so bad about being here when you—”

“I told you to,’ Alexis interrupted, still thinking about Emma’s reaction. “He was at work.”

A beat of awkward silence made ten times weirder because of the questions popping around in Alexis’s head followed, until finally, Emma said, “I’m not exactly dressed. And neither is Erik. So...”

“Right,” Alexis said, grabbing the frozen-broccoli bag and sliding from the bed, only to gasp at the sudden and unforgiving pain. Erik started as if he wanted to help her but couldn’t without dropping the quilt and risking a full-frontal show.

“Well, hell,” Layton said with a low grumble before sweeping Alexis into his arms.

“Hey! Put me down,” Alexis said, mortified that a) he’d picked her up as if she weighed nothing and b) there was no mistaking the delightfully solid muscle lifting up her backside.

“I will. In your room.” Layton strode to the door, ignoring her protests. Alexis shot Emma a pleading glance—as if her friend was going to jump to her rescue when all Layton was doing was being mildly chivalrous—and suffered the knowledge that she was just going to have to suck it up and deal with the fact that this situation couldn’t get any more uncomfortable.

But then Alexis knew full well that tempting fate with a thought like that never ended well.

2

LAYTON WAS TIRED, grumpy and his balls ached, but he had to admit that in spite of the fact that Alexis was a firecracker with a short fuse, she felt pretty good in his arms.

And that thought right there was why it was apparent that he wasn’t right in the head.

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about...uh, you know.”

Eloquent. He nearly bit his tongue in half with embarrassment at his bumbling apology, but was there a more suave way to apologize for sleep-sexin’ someone up?

“All I’m saying is that I’m not that kind of guy,” he added gruffly.

Alexis seemed to accept that he was being truthful and nodded, though her cheeks brightened a bit. “Sure. Honest mistake, I guess.”

“Yeah.”

Layton set her gently on the bed and started to leave, but Alexis stopped him, saying, “Um, so, yeah, sorry about your balls. Self-defense 101, take out the jewels.”

“Effective. It’ll be a miracle if I can have kids.”

She bit her lip around a smile when she realized he was kidding.

Layton exited the bedroom just as Emma was entering. Emma shot Layton a quick look and then joined Alexis on the bed.

“Well, that was eventful,” Alexis said with an embarrassed laugh to break the ice. “I bet that was hecka awkward with Erik. Sorry about that. Are you traumatized for life?”

“It’s okay,” Emma murmured, but there was a subtle flush to her cheeks that made Alexis wonder if Emma had enjoyed the view. Okay, so if Alexis were being objective, her brother was pretty decent to look at, so she supposed it wouldn’t be far-fetched to imagine Emma liking what she saw. But Alexis couldn’t go there. Emma was her best friend since grade school. Erik had pulled Emma’s pigtails and made fun of her braces. Alexis shuddered. “Let’s chalk this night up to one unfortunate incident and try to forget about it. Tomorrow, we’ll hit the road as soon as the roads are clear. Sound good?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Emma climbed into the bed and was already snuggling up to the pillow, all too ready to return to dreamland.

But it wasn’t that easy for Alexis. Her adrenaline was still pumping and, worse, the memory of those heated dream kisses that turned out to be real, after all, was making her restless.

She should’ve known that something was off when she’d been so incredibly aroused in her dream. No dream was that good.

Not even if chocolate was involved.

She liked to think of herself as relatively smart—she was, after all, in the master’s program for her business degree—but if one looked at her track record with relationships, she might not appear to be so intelligent.

Which was why she’d made a vow to herself that until she finished school she was not going to even think about guys. Boys, as her dad used to warn her, were bad news.

Except her brother, of course; Erik was a doll.

But all other boys...were persona non grata.

A small sigh escaped her lips. Goodbye fun times, hello celibacy.

It wasn’t for forever—just until she got her act together and on track.

So why did it feel like a death sentence?

* * *

LAYTON RUBBED THE sore spot on his dome and tried to ignore the dull, throbbing ache from where the book had connected with his shoulder, not to mention the residual sore spot from where Alexis had abused his groin.

Erik had mentioned his younger sister was living with him for the time being while she finished her master’s degree, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about the woman being a live wire.

Erik also hadn’t mentioned anything about how gorgeous his sister was.

That part shouldn’t matter, he reminded his randy self as he closed his eyes against the pain. Sexy and crazy were a bad combination—like pickles and eggs on a peanut butter sandwich or Tabasco sauce on chocolate. All sorts of bad and bound to give you indigestion.

But even as he knew it was better to just go to sleep and forget all about Alexis Matheson...how was he supposed to forget the memory of that hot woman writhing in his arms, her mouth on his? Guilt nudged at him. If Erik knew where Layton’s mouth had been, Layton would have more than an aching dome to contend with. But damn, if she’d been that hot asleep, what was she like when she was awake?

Those kinds of thoughts were not helpful, he told himself.

Neither was the fact that when she’d leaped from the bed wearing next to nothing, he’d gotten an eyeful of rounded, feminine hips and a rack that wouldn’t quit. A nice, generous handful for sure. And that thin silky chemise hadn’t given much coverage. He was pretty sure he’d caught a tantalizing view of her breasts—and what his eyes had only caught a glimpse of, his hands had touched, albeit without his conscious knowledge, and he couldn’t stop replaying the memory.

Aaaannnnd cue the boner.

Goddamn.

Erik would set him on fire if he knew what kind of thoughts he was having about his little sister.

Hey, it’s not as if she’s a kid, a voice protested in his head. Likely the same part of his brain in charge of his downstairs region. Layton pushed at his growing erection with irritation and an increasing sense of frustration. He wasn’t going to jerk off on his buddy’s couch. Just go to sleep. Tomorrow would come soon enough and he could bail. Right about now he wished he’d just ignored Erik’s offer to stay and taken his chances on the road.

Erik was his buddy, a good man and a better firefighter. They shared the same shift and looked out for one another and that meant he couldn’t start looking cross-eyed at the guy’s sister.

Layton tossed back the blankets and climbed from the couch, needing aspirin for his head. Padding quietly into the kitchen, he began opening cabinets in search of a painkiller when a voice at his back made him turn.