Satisfy your Christmas cravings with…

HOLIDAY RUSH by Samantha Hunter

Cake guru Calla Michaels is canceling Christmas to deal with fondant, batter and an attempted robbery. Then officer Gideon Stone shows up at her door. Calla thought her kitchen was hot enough before…

PLAYING GAMES by Meg Maguire

With her plane grounded on Christmas Eve, Carrie Baxter agrees to share a rental car with her secret high school crush. Sure, Daniel Barber is hotter than ever, but he’s still just as prickly, too. It’s gonna be one looong drive…and an unforgettably X-rated night!

ALL NIGHT LONG by Debbi Rawlins

Overworked paralegal Carly Watts needs Jack Carrington’s signature, but he’ll do whatever it takes to buy more time before selling his grandfather’s company. Including having one very naughty night before Christmas!

Praise for Samantha Hunter

“Another winner from a fabulous writer, Samantha Hunter, whose name alone is a surefire guarantee of high-quality romantic fiction!”

—Romance Book Paradise Blog on

Straight to the Heart

“Her leads are complex, with strong emotional depth and a sizzling sexual connection.”

—Affaire de Coeur on Unforgettable

Praise for Meg Maguire

“If you have read Maguire before…you know she writes flirt and spark like nobody else.”

—Badass Book Reviews

“The relationships…always feel organic, real and believable.”

—Penelope’s Romance Reviews

Praise for Debbi Rawlins

“A page-turner guaranteed to warm both your heart and um, other parts.”

—RT Book Reviews on

On a Snowy Christmas Night

“Heavily seasoned with deliciously spicy love scenes.”

—Affaire de Coeur on Alone with You

SAMANTHA HUNTER lives in Syracuse, New York, where she writes full-time for Mills & Boon. When she’s not plotting her next story, Sam likes to work in her garden, quilt, cook, read and spend time with her husband and their dogs. Most days you can find Sam chatting on the Mills & Boon Blaze boards at www.millsandboon.co.uk, or you can check out what’s new, enter contests or drop her a note at her website, samanthahunter.com.

MEG MAGUIRE worked as a record store snob, a lousy barista, a decent designer and an overenthusiastic penguin handler, before becoming a writer. She loves crafting no-nonsense, working-class heroes with capable hands and lousy grammar. She was a 2010 Golden Heart finalist, and a two-time RT Reviewers’ Choice Award nominee. Meg writes full-time and lives in the Pacific Northwest with her own bearded hero.

DEBBI RAWLINS grew up in rural Hawaii but has always loved Western movies and books. If she remembers correctly, her first crush was on a cowboy. He was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but then she was only eleven. Years later she attended her first rodeo on the island of Maui. The next was in Houston, Texas, where she first started writing for Mills & Boon. Now, more than fifty-five books later, she lives on a few acres in gorgeous rural Utah, surrounded by four dogs, five cats and a trio of goats.

Wild Holiday Nights

Holiday Rush

Samantha Hunter

Playing Games

Meg Maguire

All Night Long

Debbi Rawlins

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Praise

About the Authors

Title Page

Holiday Rush

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Playing Games

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

All Night Long

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Extract

Copyright

Holiday Rush

Samantha Hunter

Happy Holidays to all my wonderful readers, whether you are home or elsewhere. Enjoy!

1

CALLA MICHAELS NEVER wanted to see another holly leaf or berry ever again. She’d always loved the dark green holiday plant, with its pointy leaves and ripe, red berries. But after hand-shaping two hundred of them from gum paste—accented with twenty-four-karat gold leaf—for the holiday wedding cake she was decorating, she was over it.

Still, while she was tired of Christmas themes, she was doing the work she loved. Good thing, since she had one more wedding cake to make before she was done. Spring and summer would bring much more variety, she mused as she applied the last berry to the delicate edge of the pristine white cake before standing back to assess her work.

Perfect. Absolutely gorgeous. The decoration wasn’t the only thing that was custom—the inside of the cake had to be as special as the outside, and Calla often created flavor profiles requested by clients. This one was a butter-mint cake with white chocolate filling between the layers. The next cake would be rum-pecan.

All she had to do was load this one into the truck and get it to the restaurant downtown. They would store it for the wedding the day after next. Then she could take a short break before she started work on the final cake, which was needed for Christmas Day—only ten days away.

It didn’t escape her that she still had a ton of shopping to do. If she couldn’t be home for Christmas this year, the least she could do was to send some gifts from the Big Apple. It didn’t make up for her not being there, especially not for her mother, but Calla really had no choice.

She had to work straight through Christmas Eve, then she would take Christmas Day off, sleep and get back to it the next day. She’d managed to contract for three New Year’s cakes, which was a lot to do in one week, so she had to keep moving. Those orders would give her enough to pay the rent and supplies through January.

Her funky little storefront in Chelsea had been expensive, but it was a good location. One she could barely afford, but the eclectic local food scene helped her visibility. Still, she’d have to double her business in the coming year to stay alive, and she really needed to hire part-time help.

That meant there was no way she could go home for Christmas. It was difficult getting her family to understand. Hers was a law enforcement clan—even her mother worked at the sheriff’s office. Her father and brothers all worked for assorted law enforcement agencies. Her sister was a firefighter.

Calla baked cakes for a living.

She could still hear her mother’s voice on the phone. Calla, I understand when your brothers or sister have to work a shift over the holidays, but how is it that you can’t ever seem to make it home?

Her siblings saved lives, after all. Her mother hadn’t said that explicitly, but she might as well have. Calla knew her career choice puzzled them. They had no idea how competitive the big-city food scene was. But this was her dream, and it had taken everything she had to get here. It was going to take even more to stay.

Calla’s Cakes was the result of arduous training at culinary school and graduating at the top of her class. That had been followed by internships at some of the best bakeries. Now she was trying to make it on her own in the middle of one of the biggest cities in the world. Not an endeavor for the fainthearted. Unfortunately, it had meant missing several holidays along the way, but that was the cost of running her business.

Her mother had suggested she come back to Houston and open a shop there, or in the small town near their ranch. That might have been a possibility if she had smaller goals, but New York was where Calla had always wanted to be. She missed her family, but this city felt like home.

Being here pushed her to be at the top of her game—better than the best.

She loved her family, and they said they were proud of her, but as she’d pursued her ambitions, the gap had widened. They just didn’t understand how she could be so passionate about her work.

What she did was important to the people she baked for, though, and it was why they were willing to pay her a premium for something special. Something unique that would become one of their most cherished memories. It wasn’t life or death, but it was part of her customers’ dreams. Their happily ever afters.

She smiled as she rolled the cart holding the cake to the back room. She’d load it into a refrigerated case for safe transport, and then she’d get a night’s sleep. She could do some shopping tomorrow, pack gifts off in the mail, before starting the next cake.

Opening the back doors, she patted her pockets and realized she didn’t have the keys to the van.

She went back in and found them on the counter, then returned to load up the cake. As she started to do that, though, the hairs on her neck stood up. She wasn’t alone.

“Stay quiet and you won’t get hurt. Just show me the cash drawer now.”

Equal parts fear and fury had Calla shaking from head to toe, and her voice shook, too, as she spoke.

“Does this look like a doughnut shop? I don’t have a cash drawer. My customers pay by credit card, and there’s no cash kept on the premises. Not even a register, which you would have seen if you’d looked through the window first.”

Something sharp jutted into her spine as hard fingers grabbed her shoulder.

“I don’t believe you. A fancy place like this has to have some money around somewhere.”

Tears stung as she wondered, for a brief second, if she would ever go home for Christmas again. If she had listened to her mother and closed for the holiday, maybe she wouldn’t be in this spot now.

“I have some money in my purse. And my credit cards, too. That’s all,” she said as calmly as she could, hoping to placate her attacker—and hoping that money was all he was really after. He was welcome to it. There wasn’t much, and her cards were almost maxed out buying everything she needed for the shop.

Suddenly, she wished she had taken more to the weapons and self-defense training her father and brothers had always tried to push on her.

“Where?”

“My purse is in my office. Go back through those doors and—”

“I think you and me will go back there and get it together,” he said, his voice slurring a little. As if he’d been drinking or something.

Then Calla heard a noise in the alley behind the store, a door slamming and voices. Someone was out there, maybe someone from one of the neighboring businesses or apartments.

No way could she walk back into the dark recess of her office with this guy. There no one could see them. She’d be helpless.

“Help!” she yelled as loud as she could, tripping as she pulled sharply away, falling forward and scrambling across the floor toward the back door. “Help! I’m being robbed!”

Please, let someone hear me, she thought desperately as her attacker cursed and came forward after her. She spun around to see where he was. He was tall, young—maybe in his mid-twenties, she guessed, seeing his face as he rushed toward her.

No gun, she also noted with relief—until she saw the gleaming knife in his hands. She was close to the door, and the only thing between her and the intruder was the cake.

She scurried behind the cart and pushed hard, rolling the metal cart toward the thief. The dangerous-looking blade he’d been carrying slid across the floor as the cart—and her gorgeous cake—slammed into him.

“Hey, what’s going on in there?” someone called from outside. Jack Samosa, the dry cleaner from two doors down, stepped inside, shocked as he took in the scene before him.

Before Calla could warn Mr. Samosa, who was an older man, he was almost knocked over as the robber ran out the door into the alley.

“What the... Calla, are you all right?” he asked as he rushed to her and helped Calla pick herself up from the floor.

She was still shaking as she nodded, unable to speak yet. Then she took in the scene before her.

The cake she’d just spent four days working on was now decorating her back-room floor. She stared at the mess, not answering Mr. Samosa though she heard him, in the distance, calling the police.

“Merry Christmas to me,” she whispered, sliding back down to the floor to sit among the mess until the police arrived.

* * *

FOUR DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS, Gideon Stone walked along the streets of Chelsea, scanning the Christmas decorations and crowds as he searched for the storefront of Calla’s Cakes. It had to be here somewhere. Finally he spotted the small silver sign with black script hanging high above the entry a few yards in front of him. People were gathered in front, watching something.

As soon as he joined them, he realized what they were watching: Calla.

It had been a few years since he’d seen her, but she was even lovelier than he remembered. Her dark brown hair was longer now, though pulled back in a severe braid at the moment. That only emphasized her ivory skin even more so—not tanned like it used to be in Texas—and huge green eyes.

The bakery window wasn’t like anything he’d ever seen before, either. There weren’t glass cases with rows of goodies, but a single, bright room with ovens, refrigerators at the back and worktables poised in front of the large windows where Calla apparently worked in front of an audience.

Then he remembered Nathan, her older brother and Gideon’s friend, mentioning that. She called it performance baking—it was some new thing in the city. He hadn’t had any idea what it meant at the time.

Calla seemed completely unaware of her onlookers as she sat sculpting a row of different-size bells from golden blocks of cake. As she finished one perfect bell, she looked up, showing it off to the group as they expressed their admiration. Calla smiled back and held up her finger in a gesture to wait. She gathered the scraps of cake from her carving and put them in small white cups, topping them with a dollop of something white and creamy before carrying them outside to her company.

The crowd cheered lightly as she emerged from the wrought iron door at the entrance and started passing out the cups of cake. Murmurs of appreciation rose from those gathered. Gideon waited until she handed a cup to him. He took it and didn’t let go for a second as he waited for her to look up.

When she did, her lovely lips parted slightly and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Gideon? What are you doing here?”

She smiled, and he started to speak, but stopped when her smile faded.

“Nathan sent you, didn’t he?”

She pulled away her hand before he could confirm or deny, though she’d hit the nail on the head the first time. He hadn’t planned on lying about it, but he’d hoped she would be more receptive. Her family was simply worried, and he was doing them a favor.

At least he got some of the cake, topped with a fragrant whipped cream. As he put the small chunk to his lips, the aroma hit him first, the wafting scent of rum and nuts. Then the light, buttery texture floated over his tongue and took over his senses. It was the only time a piece of cake ever made him close his eyes in pleasure.

“Wow,” he managed, wanting to enjoy it for as long as possible.

“Glad you like it.”

He opened his eyes again to find Calla’s cat-green gaze on him, her tone as chilly as the weather.

He almost said “wow” a second time, but swallowed it down with the last of the cake.

“You should have been here for the chocolate mocha she made the other day,” a guy next to him said with a sigh of appreciation.

He’d met Calla once when Nathan had invited him over to their family ranch. That was eight years ago. She’d just graduated culinary school and had been home for a month over the summer, only twenty-two. Very pretty and very kissable.

Gideon had discovered that fact at a barbecue at the family ranch after they’d both had a little too much to drink. Though she had given him the green light for more than a kiss, he’d backed off. She was young, and she was his friend’s sister. Moreover, she was his training officer’s sister.

Definitely off-limits.

His eyes fell to her mouth. That hadn’t changed at all.

“That might be the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,” he said and watched color rise in the perfectly smooth, porcelain skin of her cheeks. His heart beat a little faster, and he had to get hold of his response.

She was still Nathan’s sister. He had to remember that, though he wanted to take back his comment that the cake was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

“I suppose it’s no coincidence that you’re here? That you aren’t on a Christmas vacation and happened by?”

He shook his head. She glared.

The people around them watched with increased interest.

“You can tell Nathan I’m fine and go back to Texas. There was no reason to come all this way,” she said as she turned and walked into her bakery. She sat at the front table, going back to work as if he didn’t even exist.

Gideon had been dismissed, and he paused for a beat out on the sidewalk.

“Well, are you just going to stand there? Go on in there after her,” said the man who liked the chocolate cake. He winked at Gideon, nudging him with his elbow, obviously misinterpreting the whole thing.

But the guy was right. Gideon couldn’t just walk away and leave it at that. He went inside, too, and closed the door behind him, aware they still had an audience.

“Calla. Can we talk? Maybe have lunch? My treat.”

“It’s past lunch, and I have work to do. I’m running behind.”

She picked up a long spatula, fumbled it, dropped it to the floor with a clatter and cursed.

“He only wanted to make sure you were okay,” Gideon offered.

“I’m fine. I don’t have time for this nonsense right now.”

“It’s nonsense that Nathan was concerned about you being attacked and robbed? Especially when he had to find out about it through the police sheets? You never even called home.”

Calla glared. “I spoke with my mother just a week or so ago.”

“But you never told her what happened.”

“Why? To worry them for no reason? I’m fine. And Nathan should keep his nose out of my business. You, too.” She pointed the spatula at him with a few sharp jabs that punctuated her words. “I can take care of myself, in spite of what my family thinks. For goodness’ sake, I’m an adult. I don’t need my brothers sending their friends to check up on me.” Over the top of the spatula she leveled him a look. “You did your duty. Go home.”

With that, she went to the large sink in the corner of the room and turned on the hot water, scrubbing the spatula and then drying her hands, putting on new gloves.

When she stretched to reach something on an upper shelf, Gideon was distracted by how the chef’s coat lifted and hinted at her curves underneath. Eight years had turned Calla from a girl into a woman, and he wasn’t immune to that fact.

“Have they caught him?”

“I have no idea.”

She went to her table and started working on more bells, ignoring him completely.

Gideon stood there and watched. Part of him felt ridiculous, because she was right. She was a thirty-year-old woman with her own business, who had lived in this city almost as long as she’d lived back in Texas. He could see that she was fine. Better than fine.

But he’d promised Nathan, and he didn’t take that promise lightly. Gideon owed Nathan, big-time.

She stopped working again, smiling at the people outside as she winked and closed the window. Then she turned on him.

“Gideon, you’re distracting me, and I can’t afford—literally—to be distracted right now. You can tell Nathan I’m fine, I carry pepper spray and I’m as careful as I can be. I have a business to run, and people counting on me. I’m behind schedule after having to redo the cake that was destroyed the other night—which took two twenty-four-hour days to finish, by the way. I barely made it. Now I’m behind on this one, too, and you’re not helping.”

Gideon backed off a little, seeing the strain and the exhaustion that he hadn’t caught before. She was stressed, probably afraid, but like the other members of the Michaels clan, she wasn’t one to back down.

“When is this one supposed to be done?”

“Three days. I need to deliver it Christmas Eve, for a Christmas Day wedding, and it’s not going as well as I’d hoped. I guess I’m distracted, but I keep messing up the carvings, and the first batch of batter didn’t come out right.”

“There was nothing wrong with that sample you just handed out, believe me.”

“This one was good. I need to do it three more times now. I need forty-eight bells, and then I need to bake the base they will rest on. Then decorate.”

Gideon looked at the bells on the counter. There were eight.

“It took me the last six hours to do these.”

“You need to spend thirty more hours at this?”

“I should be able to make it, but it will be close, assuming no more goofs. Or distractions.” She looked at him pointedly.

Gideon considered for a moment and stepped forward. “Maybe I could help.”

Her eyebrows lifted, and she coughed out a laugh. “Are you hiding a culinary degree up your sleeve?”

“I do a lot of wood carving. How different can it be?”

Her lips fell apart, her expression shocked. “Are you kidding?”

“No. I mean, why not? If I can help you carve bells, that will speed things up for you, right? You can bake more cake while I do the carving. Consider it my apology for bugging you.”

“These have to be done just so. It’s cake, not wood.”

“Let me try one. You might be surprised.”

“No. You’re just trying to find a way to stick around watching over me.”

“Is that so bad?”

“Is this because we kissed once? Do you think you have some kind of special influence over me or something?”

“Do I?”

She crossed her arms over her front. “It was a long time ago, and it was only one kiss. I’ve kissed a lot of other guys since then.”

Gideon wasn’t sure he liked that idea, but shrugged.

“Fine. I’ll make you a deal. Let me try one bell, and if I botch it, I go home, tell your family you’re fine and leave you be. If I do okay, I’ll stick around and help. At least for today.”

“They can’t be okay, they have to be perfect.”

“Okay. Then if I do perfect, I can stick around.”

“Why are you pushing this? Why not just go?”

She sounded exasperated, but he knew he had her on the ropes.

“Because I owe Nathan. He saved my hide a few months ago, and frankly, I wouldn’t even be standing here if it weren’t for him. He asked me to do a simple favor for him, and I agreed. I’d like to keep my promise, even though it’s clear that you’re okay.”

She stared at him for several long moments, her shoulders dropping as she pushed a block of cake across the table, relenting.

“Fine. It’s a deal. You suck, you leave. Wash your hands, put on some gloves and let’s see what you can do.”

2

CALLA WATCHED GIDEON study the block of cake as if wondering where to start. He looked at her drawing, her cake plans, and then at the bells she’d done already. He didn’t say a word.

Ever since she’d met him on the sidewalk, her heart hadn’t settled down for a second. He had beautiful hands. Rough from the carpentry work that he did off hours, but nicely shaped. Masculine. They seemed too large for the delicate block of cake, but he was gentle, too.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

She hadn’t thought she’d ever see him again. They’d shared a kiss eight years ago. She’d still been a virgin then, and she’d wanted more, but he’d backed off.

She’d only met one guy she liked in culinary school—Max—and she’d thought he’d be the one, but he had run as fast as he could in the opposite direction when he’d found out about her untouched status. He’d said he couldn’t take that responsibility.

She’d been home for a month that summer with one goal on her mind—to change that status before she went back to the city. Gideon had appeared to be an excellent solution to her situation. They’d had sparks from the moment they’d met, and she’d wanted him. That had been new to her, too.

She’d walked with him across the field down by the old barns under the auspices of showing him around the ranch. She’d assumed they were on the same page—that he wanted the same thing she did. She’d known he was attracted to her. She’d been experienced enough to know that—and to try to take advantage of it.

When he’d kissed her, she’d known she’d made the right choice. His lips had melted her like candle wax at the first touch. His hands on her back, where he’d dragged his fingers back and forth along the skin under the band of her jeans, had set her on fire for the first time ever.

How could she ever forget those hands?

He could’ve had her right there and then, and oh, she had wanted him to do just that. But he’d stopped, made some vague excuse about it not being the right time or place and kissed her once more, lightly, before he’d walked back to the party. Alone.

Twice rejected, still a virgin. What Gideon had done was even worse than what Max had done. She’d been willing, warmed up and ready. She’d wanted him. She’d chosen him. It had been her first real attempt at seduction.

And he’d walked away.

It had taken awhile for the bruise on her ego to heal, and eventually she’d even had to give Gideon credit for doing the right thing. Kind of.

He’d been a few years older, wiser, and he was her brother’s friend. His reasons were better than Max’s, or at least nobler. Still, at the time it had hurt, and she didn’t forget that either.

Now here he was, sitting in her bakery, holding cake in his hands as if it was a slab of wood, peeling off some delicate edges, thinly sliced, as he eased his way into the block.

She went to her drawer, grabbed another knife and some cake from the freezer and started another bell. She really didn’t have any time to waste, since now she’d have to fix or redo whatever mess Gideon made. But if this little deal sent him on his way, it was worth it. He was far too distracting.

She started carving, silently inventing ways to kill her brother Nathan the next time she saw him. She was going to give her older brother an earful for dragging her into whatever was between the two men.

“There. How’s that so far?”

Calla had been so lost in her ruminations that she wasn’t paying attention to the minutes ticking by. Gideon’s question shook her out of her trance to find him holding half of a perfectly shaped bell in his hand. He’d managed to get that far in the same time that she had barely made a dent.

“It’s...great.”

It was better than great. It was easily as good as hers.

“Don’t sound so glum about it.”

“I guess I should have studied carpentry instead of pastry,” she muttered, knowing she was being a bad sport.

His bell might actually be better than hers, with a few little flourishes that she approved of. There was even a small smattering of applause outside the window as onlookers approved of his effort. She’d reopened the window not to embarrass him on purpose, but because she did so on a schedule, when the most people were walking by at intervals during the day.

A few more than usual were here this afternoon. Drawn in by her new helper? A number of them were female.

“So I get to stay and help you out?”

She frowned. “Looks like.”

Then he put his cake and knife down and reached across the table to put his hand over hers.

Ay caramba.

Calla was pretty sure her entire body sizzled at the touch. Just like it had years ago.

She drew her hand away, self-conscious with people watching.

“Calla, listen, if you really want me to leave, I will. Would you mind, though, if I stop by the station and check in on their progress finding your attacker? And maybe let me take you to dinner tonight? I can’t go back until tomorrow anyway.”

Damn, he was being so nice. Calla knew she was being unreasonable.

“I’m sorry, I just... It’s family stuff. I’m mad at Nathan, and at life, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.”

“Want to tell me about it?” he asked gently.

Calla let out a breath she was holding. He was being so nice. She ended up telling him about the financial trouble the shop was in, her guilt about not going home and just about everything else.

“So you see, I shouldn’t go to dinner, but it’s not about you. I have to keep working on this,” she finished. She didn’t sound very convincing, though, even to herself. “I have to do whatever it takes to keep this place going.”

“Well, you have to eat.”

“Gideon—”

“Why don’t you let me help you at least finish the bells? Then we can see?”

Calla considered. Why was she being so stubborn about this?

“I...guess. I mean, if you really want to, I wouldn’t say no. They seem to like you.”

She looked out at the crowd—noticing the appreciative looks several women closer to the window were giving Gideon.

“I’d better bring out some samples.”

“I can do it, if you like.”

“Um, sure.”

She put together a tray and let him take it out. She noticed he grabbed a stack of the business cards she kept on the counter and took those as well, handing one out with each sample.

Why hadn’t she ever thought of that?

She continued to work as he chatted with the group and eventually came back in with an empty tray.

“You received rave reviews, as usual,” he said. “And I had an idea.”

“What’s that?”

“Why don’t you let them decide on whether you should go to dinner with me tonight?”

“What?”

“Make them feel more involved. We can ask them if you should go to dinner with me.”

“Are you saying we should take a vote?” Her voice rose slightly, incredulous.

“Why not? Maybe if you can find more ways to get them involved each day, you’ll draw more and more people. That’s the point, right?”

Calla narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re a cop?”

He grinned. “My sister’s in marketing.”

“I see. That was a good move with the business cards. But I think I can make up my own mind about dinner. If we can get enough work done, I think it would be nice. Thank you.”

And I might not say no to anything else you have in mind, either.

Not that she would throw herself at him again only to be rebuffed—she’d had enough of that—but...her eyes drifted down to his hands.

Gideon grinned, sitting back down after washing his hands again.

“You already told them to vote yes, didn’t you?” Calla intuited, and saw his smile widen.

She felt the responding smile tug at the edges of her lips, her mood lightening somewhat. It was kind of nice to have someone to talk to as she worked. She hadn’t shared a kitchen with anyone for a few years, and she’d missed it. Or maybe it was Gideon’s company in particular that was so nice.

“What about your own family? Don’t you need to be home for the holiday?” she asked.

He returned to his bell, finishing it up before walking to the freezer to grab another hunk of cake.

“No, not this year. That’s part of why I offered to help Nathan out. My mother passed away over the summer, unexpectedly. My sister invited me to her place in Arizona for the holiday, but honestly, it was easier to get away. I’ve never seen New York at Christmas, so I figured, why not?”

“I’m so sorry to hear about your mom. You were close?”

“We were. She raised us alone—my dad died in the line of duty when we were kids, so you know how it is.”

Calla swallowed hard. She did know, sort of. Her family had had their own share of close calls.

“I do. Dad was almost killed in an accident when I was twelve, and I lived in fear every time he left the house after that. For Nathan, Bill and Gina, too, for that matter.”

Gideon frowned. “Is that why you left? Too much worry?”

Calla looked up sharply. “I didn’t leave. I went to school, which happened to be here in New York. But yes, I suppose it was nice to be in an environment where I didn’t have to think about the danger they were in every day or listen to all of the police and fire reports over dinner every night.”

“Not to mention how much of a pain in the butt it had to be when your older brothers were all cops, too,” Gideon said with a grin, lightening the mood. “Had to make dating tough.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing. “You have no idea.”

She and Gideon worked and chatted for a few more hours, until the skies outside the shop window darkened. When Calla got up to stretch her legs, she saw it was snowing like crazy out.

“I still love seeing the snow,” she said. “We got some in Texas now and then, but not like this.”

Gideon joined her at the window.

“This is the first snow I’ve ever seen—real snow, not the slushy Texas stuff,” he said.

Calla turned to him in surprise. “Really? You’ve never seen snow?”

He shook his head, staring out the window in awe that made the young boy in him shine through.

“Not like this.”

Her heart warmed. “Well, then, what are we doing in here?” She opened the door and went outside.

He joined her just in time for her to smack him in the side of the head with a makeshift snowball. The snow was soft and fluffy, so no harm done. Calla laughed at his momentary shock, and then at the sheer glee in his expression as he scooped up some snow and threw it back at her.

He managed to get her at the back of her neck, and the snow slid down her back, making her wiggle as the cold snaked down her spine.

“Oh, good shot, but so cold,” she said, still laughing and shivering at the same time.

Then she caught his eye, how he watched her, and she stopped wiggling. Gideon’s dark hair was plastered against his forehead, wet from the snow, his cheeks ruddy from the cold. The look he leveled at her, though, was hot enough to make her forget the icy snow sliding down her back.

For a moment, so much heat leaped between them they might as well have been back behind the barn in midsummer rather than standing in the middle of a snowstorm.

Then he broke the connection, shaking the snow from his dark hair as he turned to go back inside.

Oh, no, you don’t.

Turnabout was fair play, and Calla hadn’t grown up with two older brothers without knowing how to hold her own. She scooped up some snow, quickly catching up with him as he walked back into the store. She grabbed the back of his sweater, dropping the icy bundle down inside.

His yelp was her reward.

When he spun around, wiggling as she had, she grinned and closed the distance between them.

“Wait. I know a better way to warm you up,” she said, pushing up on tiptoe and kissing him.

She meant it to be a quick kiss—or maybe she didn’t. Calla was exhausted, thrown off her game by the strange week and by being so close to Gideon for most of the day.

All she could think about while they’d been making those wedding bells was the kiss she’d had with him nearly a decade ago.

She’d wondered if it would be as good now.

It wasn’t. It was better.

His lips were still cool from the outdoors, firm and just right. She darted her tongue out to taste him and his arms came around her, pulling her up tight against him. She slid her hands under his sweater to flatten her palms against his solid—and slightly wet—back. Gideon took over the kiss almost without her realizing it, parting her lips wider as his tongue made all kinds of promises to hers.

Calla moaned and pressed her hips into his, and then again as his erection nudged against her belly through his slacks.

“If you need to keep an eye on me, this is a much better way, I’d say,” she whispered into his ear.

As soon as she said the words, Gideon’s hold loosened, and he backed away.

“I’m sorry, Calla. I shouldn’t have done that.”

She blinked, still not quite recovered from his touch. “Why not? And technically, by the way, I did that to you.”

“I thought after so much time we wouldn’t have the same chemistry, or I...I don’t know what I thought.”

She frowned. “But we do have it. And what’s wrong with it? Unless...” Her stomach dropped as she realized what could be the very large problem. “You have someone back home?”

She’d never thought he might be attached, even married. Her eyes dropped to his left hand. No ring. But that didn’t mean anything these days. A lot of people she knew were in committed relationships without the traditional symbols.

“Absolutely not. There’s no one.”

Her knees almost sagged with relief.

“Except your brother Nathan.”

Calla froze, momentarily stunned.

“My brother? Wait. No. I know for a fact he’s been seeing a woman he’s fairly serious about for the last year—”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “No, not like that. Jeez. I mean, he’s my friend, and he asked me to come here to see if you were okay, not get you into bed. I’m fairly sure doing that breaks some kind of code that would allow him to shoot me if he found out.”

Calla read between the lines as fast as Gideon spoke.

“But you’d be interested otherwise?”

“I’m so interested I’ll be using a lot of cold water back at my hotel tonight.”

“So...” Calla posited what seemed to be the obvious thought. “Why does he have to find out? What business is it of his?”

“You think he wouldn’t know if I was seeing his younger sister?”

“I’m not talking about a long-term relationship, Gideon. I’m not moving back to Texas, and I assume you aren’t planning to move to New York, so...why not enjoy each other’s company for the holidays? I can show you the city, and you can make sure no bad men attack me.”

“I think I would be the bad man attacking you,” he said dryly, but she could also see he was interested.

“Sounds good to me.”

In part, Calla almost couldn’t believe the words coming out of her own mouth, but the more she spoke, the more she convinced herself, if not Gideon.

This was the perfect way to spend her Christmas holiday. A few days of no-strings mattress gymnastics with Gideon was suddenly all she wanted for Christmas.

Then he shook his head. “If he asked, I’d have to tell him the truth, and it could ruin a good friendship. Not to mention the trust we have on the job. You know that trust is a serious thing.”

She couldn’t argue the point. The wind went out of Calla’s sails as she realized she’d done the exact thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t do—she’d thrown herself at Gideon again, only to have him walk away.

She felt like an idiot. Humiliated twice by the same guy. Wouldn’t she ever learn?

“Fine. You’re absolutely right, and I understand. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to close up for the night. Your help was great. Thank you,” she added stiffly. “You can ask the police anything you want. The detective in charge was Howser. I hope you have a nice trip back.”

With that, she walked to the door and held it open in a clear message for him to leave. The cold air rushing in reminded her of how hot he’d gotten her minutes before, adding to her resolve. If he was going to walk away this time, she was making sure it was at her invitation.

Gideon blew out a breath. “Calla, please—”

“Really, I do understand, Gideon. Have a safe trip.”

When he halted his progress, pausing next to her by the door, she thought for one hopeful second that he’d changed his mind. That he might sweep her up and say the heck with her brother, but he only looked at her one more time with regret and then stepped out the door into the snow.

Calla shut the door behind him, locked it and went back to work on her cake. She’d lied about going home to sleep. Right now the last thing she wanted was to go to bed alone.

3

GIDEON KNEW HE’D done the right thing—just as he’d done by walking away eight years ago.

Doing the right thing sucked, but it was a lesson his father had drilled into him when he was very young.

He wished he could have broken the rules this once. But Nathan wasn’t just another cop on the force; he was Gideon’s partner. Nate had trained him, and they’d worked together ever since. He’d saved Gideon’s life, and the trust they shared wasn’t something Gideon took lightly. Gideon was supposed to make sure Nate’s sister was safe—not seduce her.

Calla’s offer of a holiday affair had been torture to turn down, especially since he hadn’t been with anyone in a while. On top of the demands of his job, his mom’s death and the resulting grief, sex had been the last thing on his mind.

Until he’d seen Calla. Now it was all he could think about. She was right—who would know? Well, he would.

He entered the large double doors of the local precinct where Calla had reported her break-in, announcing his arrival at the reception desk.

Gideon looked at postings on a corkboard in the hall for a few minutes, waiting.

“Detective Stone?”

An older guy, short and squat, but no less tough for his stockier stature, stood behind him. Gideon could tell Detective Howser had been in the game for a while. He’d probably seen it all, and more.

“Detective Howser. Call me Gideon. Thanks for taking a minute to talk to me.”

“Sure, no problem,” the detective responded with a thick New York accent, waving Gideon on to follow him back to his office.

Inside, he shut the door. “What can I do for you, Tex?”

Gideon grinned, not minding the moniker the detective casually threw his way. “I wondered if you could give me any more information on an attempted robbery that happened four days ago at a bakery in Chelsea...”

Awhile later, Gideon emerged from the precinct resolved not to leave the city, or Calla. Not just yet, anyway.

The fingerprints taken from the knife belonged to a repeat offender with a long rap sheet—one that included several assaults as well as robberies and other crimes. He’d done two stints in prison already, and tended to hold a grudge. Gideon’s gut was telling him it wasn’t time to head back to Texas just yet. Howser had said they were scouring the neighborhoods to turn him up. Once Gideon knew the police had the thief in custody, then he could relax and consider his work done. However, Calla wasn’t exactly going to welcome him back into her shop, or her life.

Returning to her shop in his rental car, he drove by to check that she was in the store, working—she was. He found himself some coffee and a sandwich, and then parked in a spot down the street from the shop, under a snow-covered tree. The streets were busy. She didn’t know his car, and Gideon was good enough not to be spotted tailing her—and to spot anyone else who might be following her, as well.

He settled in, watching Calla’s storefront. From a distance. Which was exactly as it should be. He had no place coming on to or kissing Calla Michaels. This was the price he’d pay for getting too close in the first place.

It made for a long afternoon and evening. Calla didn’t even leave to get dinner; she worked straight through, sitting at her table. The crowd in front of the shop seemed a bit larger today.

Did Calla’s family have any clue what amazing work she was doing, and the effort she put into it? When Nathan had said she ran a bakery, Gideon had pictured doughnuts and Italian bread, but what Calla did was as much art as baking. Clearly as dedicated as she was talented, she easily worked the same kind of hours that he—or any of her family members—did.

He needed to stretch his legs and got out of the car to take a turn around the neighborhood while keeping an eye on the shop. It was considerably less busy this time of night, when Calla’s Cakes was one of the last businesses open.

Shortly after midnight, the lights in the shop turned off and Calla finally emerged from the front door. She’d mentioned that her apartment was within walking distance when they’d been chatting in the bakery. Gideon locked his car and followed on foot.

He’d make sure she was safely tucked inside for the night, then he could come back and move the car to a spot near her home. So much for the pricey hotel room he’d booked, but this was the job. It was going to be a long, cold night, he thought as he pulled his coat around him, keeping a safe distance behind Calla from the opposite side of the street.

She walked with the crisp step he saw other New Yorkers use, moving through the dark street to her destination as if completely focused on that task alone. The area seemed safe enough—still, it was late, and she was alone.

Five minutes later, she turned to climb the stairs toward the wrought iron doors of an older brick apartment building. There was a decorated tree on one side of the yard, and a menorah across the walk. Several tenants had decorated their windows as well, making it very cheerful and bright. Near the top, Calla slipped her hand inside her bag for her keys.

The next few seconds were a blur. Everything happened so fast that Gideon was unprepared when he saw a shadow dart out and grab Calla from behind, dragging her back down the steps and into a small courtyard.

Gideon was across the street in seconds, reaching for his gun—which he didn’t have, and wasn’t allowed to carry, in the city. That didn’t stop him, though.

Dashing into the darkness where the intruder had dragged Calla, Gideon called her name and heard her muffled reply. Someone was covering her mouth. He saw them scuffling in the corner under a barren tree and ran in that direction, taking the attacker by the back of his coat collar and pulling.

“Get off her!” Gideon growled. Primal emotion ran through him as he yanked the man back from Calla, and then...extreme pain made him gasp.

Hollers of agony filled the quiet courtyard. A tenant in the building yelled something from a window up above them. Gideon was knocked back on his butt into the snow. Someone fell on top of him—the attacker? He couldn’t see; his eyes were on fire. He grasped for something, an arm, a leg, but there was nothing.

“Calla? Where are you? Are you okay?” Gideon pushed himself up from the wet ground and saw a blurry image of Calla appear in his view.

“I’m right here, Gideon, where did you come from? Oh, my, I’m so sorry, look at you, let’s get inside...”

He could feel her shaking as she took his hand, her voice desperate. Afraid. Gideon shook his head, knowing better than to rub his eyes, though he wanted to do so desperately.

“Where is he?”

“He ran off. I sprayed him at the same time you pulled him away from me. I didn’t know you were right there, and I got you, too. I’ll call a cab to get to the ER.”

“No, that’s not necessary. I need some water, please.”

He could see, more or less, out of one eye; the other was worse. She led him up three flights of stairs, repeating that she was so, so sorry as they went. Once inside her small apartment, she led him to the kitchen.

“Do you have any grease-fighting detergent?” he asked.

“Yes, my dish soap.”

“Could you put some in a large bowl, very diluted?”

He watched her bustle around the kitchen with his one good eye, the burning in the other almost unbearable. When she put the bowl in front of him, he closed his eyes and pushed his face into the soapy water for as long as he could, then came out, rinsed under a clean spray in the sink, and repeated the process.

“A towel?”

She pushed one into his hand and he dried off, starting to breathe more easily as the pain subsided.

“Damn it, that stuff hurts,” he said, leaning back against the wall, opening his eyes slowly. “Can you replace that soapy water with some new so I can do it again?”

“Sure. Is it helping?”

“Yes, very much. It’s the only thing that can dissolve the oils in the pepper spray from your skin—you just have to be careful to keep them from running back into your eyes when you rinse.”

“I see. Well, if it helps at all, I think the guy who grabbed me got the most of it.”

“Good.”

Gideon rinsed his face and eyes again, and after a half hour of doing so, felt considerably better. Thank goodness civilian-issue pepper spray was a lot weaker than the type they used on the force, which could burn your skin and even irritate your lungs. This was bad enough.

He looked at Calla, who hadn’t taken her coat off yet. She was pale, with deep shadows under her eyes. Her obvious concern only accentuated them. As his vision cleared, he also noticed a scrape on her hand as she lifted it to remove the bowl from the counter, and there was a light bruise forming on her cheek.

His fury at the idea of someone hurting her far outweighed the lingering sting of the pepper spray.

“Was it the same guy? Did you see him?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. He stayed behind me, though his voice sounded the same, but I was so frightened and it all happened so fast.”

“Let me see,” he said, stepping forward and taking her hand in his, looking at the scrape and then putting his hand under her jaw. He touched the bruise gently and was relieved to find it rubbed away, only a smudge of grime.

It didn’t make him any less angry.

He started to pull his hand away, but hers rose to cover it. “Thank you for being there. I’m so sorry I got you with the spray.”

Her voice shook, and a tear slipped down her cheek. Gideon groaned, pulling her in close and holding her until she stopped shaking.

“He’s probably regretting grabbing you tenfold right now. Good for you for thinking fast and being able to use the spray. I only wish I’d seen him sooner.” He lowered his lips to kiss her soft dark hair. “Do you want me to look at that scrape?”

She shook her head. “It’s no big deal. I need to clean up, though. I’ll be fine.”

Tough, smart, strong. Calla could take care of herself, but it didn’t stop Gideon from wanting to help.

“It was possibly your attacker from the store—unlike a lot of criminals, this one has a history of coming back for more. The NYPD should have told you that. We have to report this.”

“I will, in the morning. He’s probably long gone now, and it might not even have been him. I can’t be sure. I’m so tired. I really need to clean up and sleep.”

Gideon believed it. She looked ready to fall asleep on her feet.

“Okay. You do that. Lock the doors. I’ll be outside if you need me. Hand me your cell phone so I can give you my number.” Gideon planned on talking to Howser as soon as he left. If the attacker was suffering from being sprayed, he’d be slowed down and blinded, perhaps seeking help—the perfect time to catch him.

She blinked up at him, frowning. “Outside? Why would you be outside?”

“I know you don’t want me around, but I’m not leaving, or letting you out of my sight, until we know this guy is caught.”

Realization dawned in her expression. “You were watching me.”

“I talked to the detective on your case, and he filled me in on some disturbing details about this guy. I couldn’t leave without knowing you were okay. It’s no big deal. It’s my job.”

She looked up at him, a little less blurry. “It’s a big deal to me. Thank you.”

Gideon didn’t expect that—he expected her to be ticked off—so he was surprised at her thanks.

“Um, sure. Listen, why don’t you take that shower, and I’m going to call this in.”

There was a breath of silence between them, and she looked up at him. “Why don’t you call it in and then join me in the shower?”

Gideon’s heart tripped over itself, his body hardening almost instantaneously. Before he could object, she cut in again.

“I seem to be making a habit of throwing myself at you,” she said with a slight smile. “But I really don’t want to be alone right now, Gideon. Please don’t leave again.”

Damn it. Of all the appeals she might have made, that one socked him in the gut.

“Please,” she whispered, lifting up and pressing a kiss to his mouth.

She continued kissing him until he gave in, unable to resist a deeper taste. Gideon knew he wouldn’t be walking away from Calla again that night.

* * *

CALLA’S FEARS WERE forgotten as soon as she felt Gideon relent, his body relaxing as he pulled her in closer, his mouth finding hers again. They took their time now, getting to know each other, understanding that there was no need to rush.

“I guess I could use a shower, too,” he said against her mouth, making her smile. “After I make this call.”

“Okay. Don’t be long.”

She waited for him to report the attack, watching the way his expression changed, and his voice, as he talked to the other detective. It made him look dangerous. And even sexier. Calla waited until he was done—she didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind.

When he hung up, she took him by the hand, leading him back to her bedroom. She stopped by the bed, removed her coat, and started taking everything else off, as well. He watched with rapt attention.

Guilt assailed her as she took in the puffy redness still apparent around his eyes and on his cheeks. Down to her bra and panties, she stepped forward, framing his face with her hands.

“Does it still hurt?”

“Are you kidding? My eyes are the happiest they’ve ever been right now,” he said with a lopsided smile that warmed her heart.

His fingers slid around to the back of her bra, unclasping it and letting it fall loose. Calla shrugged it to the floor, inviting his gaze. She wasn’t self-conscious about her body, and she could tell from the heat in his eyes that he liked what he saw.

“You’re way overdressed for the shower,” she said, reaching to push his sweater up over his head, and then the T-shirt under it.

She wasn’t disappointed, but she’d known she wouldn’t be. Leaning in, she darted her tongue out to follow along the smooth edge of one sculptured muscle and smiled when he groaned.

“Calla...”

The way he said her name was a caution and a promise.

She reached for his belt buckle, but he backed away, quickly shucking his pants himself.

Calla caught her breath as she took him in. No, she wasn’t disappointed in any way whatsoever.

“You keep looking at me like that and we’re never making it into the shower.”

“That would be a shame. I can think of all kinds of fun we’ll have in there.”

Sliding her panties to the floor, she walked ahead and let him watch her, putting a little extra swing in her step as she went into the en suite and turned on the light. Her heart was racing as she stepped in under the steamy spray and waited for him to join her.

Was this finally really happening? Did she actually have Gideon Stone naked in a shower with her? He tugged her under the water with him, his mouth landing on hers in a hard, hot kiss.

Definitely real.

Calla closed her fingers over his erection jutting against her hip and stroked. He broke the kiss on a heavy groan, burying his face in her neck. She enjoyed how he pushed into her hand in a needy rhythm.

Then his hands were on her, too, dipping in between her thighs as he moved his lips down her shoulder to her breast, sucking a nipple into his mouth as his fingers did devilish things between her legs.

“Oh, Gideon,” She sighed, wanting more than his fingers.

Luckily, he wanted the same thing, and hiked her leg up by his hip, backing her against the tile wall under the spray.

“Protection?” he managed as he nibbled at her lips. His hips pressed seductively against hers, making her moan as he teased her clit with the broad head of his shaft.

“Oh, right,” she gasped, thankful he remembered. “Lemme...”

She disengaged herself from this delightful position and reached out to the vanity, where she opened a drawer and reached in to get a small foil packet.

Good to go.

Ripping it open, she sank to her knees in the shower and before she applied it, let herself enjoy one more luxury as she closed her lips over him instead. Her body went into overdrive at the sensation of his wet, velvety skin against her tongue, pressing into the back of her throat.

“Stop,” he commanded brusquely. She knew why and let him pull her up again as her hands deftly covered him.

This time he positioned her face-first against the tile, her hands braced as he widened her stance from behind.

“Okay?” he asked softly, against her ear.

“More than,” she managed, levering her hips back slightly in invitation.

He took that invitation as he nudged against her, experimenting, and then entering her body deeply until they were both gasping with the intensity of it. Calla had never felt so turned on—at the same time, she felt so safe and supported as his arms came around her.

His hands covered her breasts as he started to move, gently strumming his fingers over her tender skin. He whispered hot endearments in her ear in between kisses along the back of her neck.

Calla couldn’t form words, only sounds, as he picked up the pace, thrusting faster while covering her hands with his against the wall, their fingers entwining. Her body welcomed him, clutching and wanting more. She rolled her hips in rhythm with his thrusts until they were both crying out, their bodies pulsing together in a long, hard climax.

Calla lost track of time, of how long they stood there, joined, wringing every last second of pleasure from each other. All she knew, as he turned her to him and slid his hands into her wet hair as he kissed her, was that she wanted more.

4

GIDEON HAD TRAVELED a bit, usually in connection with his job, but he’d never fallen for a city like he did for New York. Or maybe it was the woman who lived here, but suddenly the bleakness of the past few months faded, making everything magical again.

He sat in the corner of the bakery studio reading as Calla worked on building and decorating the bell cake for the gathering of people outside. She’d built a clever trellis to arrange the bells on, her ingenuity captivating him. She was clever in and out of bed, he thought with a smile.

And just as thorough.

Everyone knew that the decorated windows were a huge draw in the city this time of year, but he found it hard to believe that anything could match watching Calla work.

Well, except for watching Calla stretch sensuously beneath him, her hair scattered over a pillow as he planted himself deep inside her body, but that wasn’t for public consumption.

Looking past her, he realized that nothing here was decorated. Nothing in her apartment had been, either. Not even a wreath on the door or lights in the window.

Calla was having a difficult time drawing attention to her business. The shop was surviving, but barely, she’d confided. She was even considering moving out of her apartment to save money for the bakery, living here in her office until things picked up.

Gideon admired her determination, but he hoped things wouldn’t go to that extreme. Her shop space was nice, but not livable. He thought of all the nights he’d stayed overnight at the station, sleeping on the couch in his small office or even at his desk, but that was different. Some cases took a long time to settle. Calla was thinking about giving up her living space just to save her business. There had to be another way.

He walked back into Calla’s office to make a phone call to his sister. After explaining the situation, he hoped he could get some ideas of how to help Calla, and he did. Now the trick would be to convince her to go along with it.

Calla had gone outside, handing out samples, and he was glad to see her chatting a bit with the group. And giving them her business cards. She’d listened to him about connecting with her audience.

But what made them come back every day? What made them want more?

Gideon had an idea, but he wasn’t sure Calla would like it. She was so hardworking, but that dedication to her work, along with the worry about her business, created so much stress that she was missing out on the fun. People saw her work hard, but that’s all they saw. Maybe he could help show them something more—what he saw in her.

When she came back in, her cheeks rosy from the cold, he took a dollop of icing on his finger and dabbed it to her nose before she could sit back down.

“Gideon! What—”

He grabbed a towel from the counter as he pulled her toward him with the other hand. But instead of wiping the frosting from her nose, he caught it with his tongue and then pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle, sweet kiss—literally sweet as they shared the frosting.

For a moment, heat leaped between them as Calla melted against him before remembering where they were. She pulled away, looking scandalized.

“Gideon!”

She had no need to worry. The crowd, as they often said, went wild. Applause and cheers met them from the half dozen or so people who had witnessed the kiss.

“The wedding cake lady has a boyfriend!” someone said.

“And he’s hot!” another voice chimed in.

Gideon grinned and Calla looked struck dumb.

The look she gave him wasn’t a friendly one.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed under her breath.

“Just go with it,” he said in her ear.

Calla slid Gideon a look as she promptly closed the shades.

“Gideon—”

“Calla,” he said at the same time, and they both stopped.

He smiled; she sighed.

Gideon crossed over to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Hear me out. When you were working, I had an idea. I called my sister to ask her about how you could do some marketing, and I told her how you work in the window.”

“Yeah?”

Gideon nodded, encouraged at the flicker of interest in her expression. And the satisfied flush in her cheeks from his kiss.

“Yes. She said the performance baking is good, but people can’t necessarily connect with it.”

“I don’t understand—who can’t connect with cake? And weddings?”

“That’s true, but what you do is really about romance. Happily ever afters, right? And yet your storefront isn’t making that connection. Giving them something to relate to, and something to root for.”

“Or looking like someone who seems completely unprofessional.”

“I doubt that, not when they see how hard you work. Diedre said that you need to do something that could really draw attention. You have to admit, that kiss drew some attention.”

“I still don’t get it, and I can’t see how this will make people buy more cakes.”

“Because it will get them talking—to others at work, or at home—and it will bring them back. My mother was telling me about coffee commercials they ran back in the eighties, I think, where each commercial was like a story over coffee. People wanted to watch the commercials to see what happened—and then they bought the coffee because they liked the story. If people watch you and make the connection between what you do and romance, that’s stronger than just seeing how hard you work.”

Gideon could feel her tension, and turned her around and massaged her tight shoulders as he leaned in closer and kissed her neck.

“Gideon,” she moaned in half pleasure, half protest, but she didn’t move away. “I have to finish the cake.”

“You need to learn to relax a little, Calla.”

“There’s no time. And we relaxed a lot, all last night.”

He laughed against the back of her neck.

“Listen, why don’t you leave this to me? Let me try a few things, and let’s see what works?”

“Oh, I don’t know...”

Gideon nibbled on her ear, loving her taste. Sweet like the sugar she used on the cakes.

“Trust me, Calla. What can it hurt?”

She groaned as he sucked the tender skin under her ear, and Gideon was starting to lose focus, as well.

“I have to get to work,” she protested lamely, but didn’t pull away.

“In a minute.”

Gideon had a taste of her and he wanted more before he had to let her go back into her world. He left her only to lock the door before returning, wrapping his arms around her from behind, undoing the buttons of her chef’s coat, sliding his hands underneath.

Good thing she’d pulled the shades.

She arched back against him, catching her breath as his hands closed over her breasts, teasing.

“Sex produces endorphins, you know...it will help with your energy levels,” he whispered in her ear before biting the lobe lightly.

“I can’t have sex in here. It’s against health codes.”

“Right, we’ll be careful about that,” he said gruffly as he worked his hands up under her blouse, loving the warm silk of her skin.

She chuckled softly against his mouth as he kissed her again. Gideon walked her back to the small office. Inside, he eyed the desk.

“No health-code violations in here, right?”

“That’s true,” she admitted, letting him draw her inside.

Gideon couldn’t wait another second to kiss her—to really kiss her—and he loved how she deftly undid his belt, running her fingers over his stomach.

When her hands slipped inside his jeans to touch him, he caught his breath, his head falling forward to her shoulder. He was hard as a rock already, and she murmured her approval in his ear as she nipped his earlobe and stroked him gently.

Gideon was sure he’d never felt so much with anyone before in his life. Calla’s touch turned him inside out.

He darted his tongue out to taste the smooth skin of her shoulder and raised a hand to cover her breast, stroking her there in the same rhythm she did for him. She trembled as her nipple hardened under his fingers, and she sought a kiss that he was more than willing to give.

Gideon thought about taking her on the desk, which was still a possibility, but he didn’t want to break the intimacy of the kiss or the touches they were sharing, even though he was increasingly close to embarrassing himself.

Calla seemed to know, backing away from the kiss, breathless, her cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

“Touch me, too,” she said, before fusing her mouth to his again.

Her wish was his command. Bringing her a little closer, he slid his hand up the firm muscle of her thigh under her skirt. She’d worn tights in the winter cold, but he got them out of the way and eased his fingers inside the scrap of lace she wore under them.

“Oh, yes.” She sighed as his fingers stroked her sex, her slick skin telling him how ready she was.

It had been a lot of years since he’d done anything like this, kissing and getting off with a woman just by touching. It was wildly hot.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured against her cheek as he felt his body tighten, close to release. He wanted to last, but she was a devil with those hands, not letting him escape the rising tide.

He captured the hard tip of her breast with his lips through her blouse as he moved one finger inside her, then two, thrusting into her heat and drawing a long moan from her.

“Oh, Gideon, yes...”

The way she said his name and surged against him was all he could take. Pleasure rushed from him, the orgasm stealing his breath as his body moved against her of its own volition. He gladly let it steal his sanity for the next few moments.

She cried out, too, seconds later, her head dropping back, her face a study in sheer pleasure as she rode out her release. Gideon kissed her throat, tried to catch his breath as he brought her closer, holding her against him for several long minutes.

Calla snuggled into him, warm and relaxed as she sighed in contentment against his shoulder. Gideon was a bit shaken, for reasons he couldn’t understand. He’d intended on having some fun, doing something spontaneous. What had just passed between them was, instead, unbearably intimate—more so than he would have expected for a quick office interlude.

Maybe it was the residual afterglow, but he felt closer to Calla than he had to anyone he could remember in recent memory. The fact was that he was feeling things he’d never expected to feel—or maybe he’d known all along. Maybe he’d known when he first kissed her back at the barn, and that was why he’d walked away.

Because Calla could never be casual. She was so much more than that.

He wasn’t so sure that she felt the same way about him.

“I—I should wash up and get back to work,” she said, almost apologetically, straightening her clothing.

“You do that. I’m going to go do a few things. It won’t take long. Call me if you need me,” he said, leaning in for a long, soft kiss.

“As if there’s any question.”

Surprise flickered in his brain at her response, and he wasn’t sure what to say, so he didn’t say anything. With a smile, he left the office, checking to make sure everything was secure before he left.

Now he had to set a plan in motion, to romance Calla in her bakery window and hope that it not only saved her shop, but convinced her that maybe they were more than a holiday fling, as well.

* * *

IT STARTED WITH the Christmas lights.

Gideon had returned to the shop with his arms chock-full of Christmas lights. He’d insisted that she needed to decorate her shop and her window and door.

Calla found it impossible to work with him crawling all over the place hanging lights and decorations, so she’d done the inevitable—she’d given in and helped.

Surprisingly, many of the people walking home from work or out strolling with their dogs had stopped to watch, applauding with oohs and ahhs when Gideon turned the lights on.

Then he pulled a piece of mistletoe out of his pocket and held it over her head for a kiss.

This one she granted him happily. The shop did look more in the holiday spirit, and it made Calla feel so, as well.

“Thank you, Gideon. This is lovely. I didn’t have time to decorate, but so many people are stopping to look at the lights.”

He nodded, clearly excited. He was so sweet, she thought, her heart warm.

“And did you notice what I put over in this window? They’re noticing that right along with it.”

She’d been working on the other side of the shop, and hadn’t seen what he’d been up to. Letting him lead her outside, eyes closed, she opened them when he said and was struck by what she found.

Twelve color pictures from her website of some of the most elaborate cakes she’d made that year hung in the window, all framed with lights.

“Gideon...this is...awesome.”

“I thought so, too. How could someone not want one of your cakes? The website address is listed at the bottom of each one, too.”

Calla shook her head, barely feeling the cold as she stared at her bright, lively windows. The pictures were definitely eye-catching from the sidewalk, and even from the street.

“You’re brilliant. How could I have missed putting pictures of cakes in the window? I have the catalog in here on the counter, but I never considered this.”

“Well, it was one of Diedre’s ideas, and she is brilliant. You can’t think of everything, Calla. You have a lot to deal with here, making these cakes.”

“Remind me to send your sister a thank-you. This is very sweet, Gideon,” she said again, feeling a little choked up.

Calla had felt alone in her career since she’d started out. While she had friends, they were also often her competitors. Her family was far away, and supported her in a general sense, but not like this. No one had ever done anything like this for her. Even as she stood there, people stopped to check out the window and pointed to which cakes they liked best.

They went back inside, and Calla turned to Gideon, giving him a spontaneous hug. It didn’t matter to her if anyone was watching.

“I did have fun today. I’ll have to get here a little earlier tomorrow to finish, but this really was wonderful.”

“I’m glad,” he said, loosening the bun she’d pulled her hair back into and running his fingers through it in a way that lit up her nerve endings as brightly as the shop.

“Maybe we could get some dinner and head back to my place?”

“Sounds great. I’m starving,” he said with a chuckle, backing away.

Calla missed his touch when he let go. Oh, no. That wasn’t good. She had to be tired—she was feeling far more warm and fuzzy than she should. This was only a fling, only sex. And Gideon was just being nice, helping her with the shop.

“Me, too, really,” she said with a smile, closing up and grabbing her coat. “It’s been a long time since lunch.”

As they walked out onto the street, Gideon didn’t let go of her hand.

“So, you know the city and the food better than I do. Any preference?”

“It’s too late for a lot of restaurants if we don’t have reservations, especially this time of year, but I have a friend who runs a small place in Spanish Harlem where you can get the best burrito in the city.”

“Better than that place on Rudd St. in Houston?”

“Oh, man, way better,” she said, rolling her eyes. “No comparison.”

She knew the spot he meant; it was one of the places cops ate regularly because it was open all night. It had a decent menu for a take-out place, but nothing like Diego’s.

“Let’s go, then,” he said jovially.

“We should take a cab—it’s in East Harlem, and probably not a place you want to leave your rental car,” she said, letting go of his hand as she stepped to the curb and hailed a taxi with an earsplitting whistle.

The yellow cab appeared at the curb, screeching to a halt.

“Wow,” Gideon said, holding the door for her as they got in. “That was impressive. I tried to grab one a few times today, and it took me three tries.”

“It depends on the time of day, the weather, and if they are on duty or not. And a good strong whistle doesn’t hurt. One of the useful things my brothers taught me to do.”

Gideon was sure a nice pair of legs helped, too.

The ride was fast and furious, and Calla let Gideon keep her close in the back of the cab. Far too soon, the cabbie pulled up to the curb again.

“Are you sure this is it?” Gideon asked, looking around as they paid and got out of the cab.

Calla laughed and took his arm. “Yes, quite sure.”

A short ways down the street, she turned him into an alley and opened a door on the side, where the spicy scents of peppers and cumin met them and made her mouth water.

“Awesome, there’s a table open,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward a corner in the back.

The small cantina was crowded and alive with chatter as they claimed what seemed to be the last table in the place. Calla slid up onto the raised seat, victorious.

“I wouldn’t have expected this from the outside,” Gideon said, looking around in appreciation at the warm brick walls decorated with authentic Mexican textiles and other art. “It smells like heaven in here.”

“There are a lot of places like this in the city. Real estate is expensive and hard to come by, so small hidden gems like this are everywhere.”

“And you know the owner?”

“Yes. Diego is the head chef, as well. He grew up in this neighborhood.”

As soon as she said it, her friend appeared at the edge of the kitchen and spotted her. He smiled, heading directly toward her. Calla met him halfway with a hearty hug.

“Calla, what a wonderful surprise.”

“I have a friend visiting from Texas. I couldn’t let him leave the city without tasting your amazing burritos.”

Calla lead Diego back to the table and she saw Gideon watching them, his eyes narrowed slightly, his jaw tight.

“Gideon, this is Diego Jones, the owner and the chef. And the guy who saved my butt in sauces back in school.”

“Nice to meet you, Gideon,” Diego said heartily, shaking Gideon’s hand. “Dinner is on the house tonight. I got my hands on some fresh stone crab today, and I’m using it for late-night special burritos. Do you like seafood?”

Calla smiled. Diego was one of the warmest and most generous people she knew, and it came out in his personality and his cooking.

“A crab burrito?” Gideon said, somewhat skeptically.

Calla squeezed Diego’s arm as she levered herself back up into her chair. “Trust me, you won’t want to miss it.”

“Bring it on, then,” Gideon said with another slight smile.

“I hope you’ll enjoy it. Calla, you need to not be such a stranger.”

Diego kissed her cheek before being called by another table; he backed away with a smile.

“Believe me, you won’t ever find any food like what you are about to have here. His combinations of flavors and textures are mind-blowing.”

Gideon nodded. “You two seem...close.”

“We are. I’ve always been more of a baker than a cook, and I met Diego in a course on sauces. I was botching it entirely. He saved my bacon...or my sauce, I suppose. He spent a lot of time out of class helping me perfect my technique.”

“For sauce?”

“Well, yeah, what else?”

“It certainly is a popular place,” Gideon commented as a server delivered two huge, colorful margaritas to their table.

Calla watched him touch the glass, picking up a strange vibe. He was tense, suddenly quiet, and even a bit surly.

Was Gideon jealous?

And why did that idea make her have to fight a female sense of satisfaction? She and Gideon weren’t an item. They weren’t even in a relationship. In a few days he’d be gone.

She was probably imagining his reaction. He was very likely just tired.

“Calla? Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes, sorry. I was just thinking about this place. He doesn’t even advertise, which is amazing,” Calla said wistfully. “He has a terrific product, good food and word spreads about things like that.”

“You have a terrific product, too. But he seems to cater to a local area, like you said. He grew up here. He can feed fifty people at a time, every night. You can only make one cake at a time. It’s completely different.”

“You’re right. I lose perspective sometimes.”

Like right now? It felt so good to confide in Gideon. To share her burdens and have someone’s support. She could easily lose perspective if she didn’t take care.

“It will work out. You’re too talented for it not to,” he added, pulling her hand up to his lips.

Calla shivered at the touch of his mouth on her skin, and relented.

“Probably a hundred talented chefs fail here every day,” she said realistically.

“You won’t be one of them,” he said, holding her gaze and flicking his tongue out to taste the back of her pinky finger. That scrambled her thoughts immediately.

Their food was delivered just in time to divert their attention and reset the magic of the evening. Calla was relieved, as she really didn’t want this to end.

Not yet.

5

“SO WHY IS IT, exactly, that you owe my brother?” Calla asked as they walked along a quiet side street back in midtown, under starry winter skies.

Her words made little puffs of vapor in the cold air, drawing Gideon’s attention to her mouth. The edges of her lips canted upward in a half smile as her gaze landed on some snowmen built earlier in the day, lined up along the edge of the walk.

Gideon loved everything about her mouth. It was very expressive, betraying her thoughts and her emotions with a slight tilt in either direction, and it was generous with smiles. And kisses. Very wonderful, hot kisses. Before he answered her question, he pulled her around to face him and bent down to help himself to one, unable to wait.

She didn’t seem to mind, pressing closer and parting her lips under his, still tasting of lime, tequila and savory spices from their dinner. Gideon didn’t want to stop, but when she shivered in his arms, he wasn’t sure if it was from desire or cold.

He broke the kiss but kept her close to him as they continued walking, his arm slung around her shoulders.

“He took a bullet for me,” Gideon said, feeling the same knot curl in his chest that he usually did when he said the words out loud. It had been two years, but the memory was still fresh. “He saved my life.”

Gideon still sometimes went to bed haunted by the image of Nathan falling to the pavement. He had taken down the shooter, and Nathan had been wearing a vest, but still.

Calla froze, gripping his hand tightly as she stared up into his face.

“You were there? When he was shot? He never told me that.”

“We were checking the alleys after an armed assault on a store owner, but it seemed like the guy was long gone. He wasn’t—in fact, I walked right by him. He came up behind me. He would have killed me there, on the spot, if Nathan hadn’t come around the corner. He yelled before the guy could shoot me, but then the guy turned on Nathan. Worst night of my life, seeing him fall,” Gideon said.

He apologized softly as he realized he was squeezing Calla’s hand a bit too tightly. She made some incomprehensible noise as she tightened her hand on his again.

“He was okay. He had a vest on—we both did. But it’s just luck that the bullet hit there. I took the guy down right after he fired, but still. If the shot hadn’t hit the vest, Nate could have been killed. Because of my carelessness.”

Calla paused, as if absorbing the news. Was she wondering why he’d missed the guy who had been hiding down a small side alley? Was she thinking that his miss could have gotten her brother killed?

“I’m so glad he saved you,” she finally said, to his surprise.

Something in her voice, a husky note that seemed to glide over his skin, made him want to get her alone.

“Want to grab a cab back to my hotel instead of your place? I have this fancy room, huge bathtub, huge bed...hardly being used,” he said as he ducked down to nibble at the curve of her ear.

“Oh, a hot bath sounds perfect.” She sighed.

“Even better if we share?” he added.

“Definitely. Though I don’t see any cabs in service here. There’s a subway a block down.”

She was already heading that way, leading him by the hand, and he was happy to follow. They caught the train heading downtown in time and took some seats on a corner, with only a dozen or so other passengers all minding their own business on the far side of the car.

The sway and rattle of the subway car sent a vibration through Gideon’s body that only emphasized how turned on he was, and he pulled Calla closer, finding her mouth to let her know, too.

“How long?” he whispered roughly in her ear.

“Maybe ten minutes, if that,” she said, sounding a little shaky herself.

He saw the pulse hammering in her throat, and let his gaze drift down over the flush in her cheeks, not from the cold. Meeting his look with one of her own, she turned into him, closer, sliding her hand up his thigh and under the flap of his coat, her hand settling over the distinct bulge in his slacks.

Gideon had to bite down to repress a moan, closing his eyes and burying his face in her hair as she touched him so slightly, yet made his entire body stiffen with need.

“You keep doing that, I won’t make it off the train,” he muttered against the soft skin of her neck.

“Don’t worry, you’re in good hands,” she said with an evil chuckle, flicking her tongue against his ear as she continued to touch him just enough to set him on fire, but not enough to quench the blaze.

By the time the train reached their stop, Gideon could hardly think straight. He was the one pulling her along as they both raced to his hotel. In the elevator on the way to his room, he gave her a taste of her own medicine, pressing her into the wall and touching her as she had him...a light hand grazing over a hard nipple, a nudge of his thigh at the apex of hers. She was trembling, as was he, when the doors finally opened.

Entering the hotel room, Gideon let the door slam shut, his key card falling to the floor. He didn’t bother with a light. They were a tangle of sleeves and pant legs, belts and shoes flung every which way until all he felt was her skin against his.

“Oh, yeah, that’s it...” he said, holding as much of her against him as he could fit.

Now that he had her here and naked, the urgency diminished somewhat and he slid his hands over her back and up into her hair, steadying her head so that he could explore the recesses of her mouth as deeply as possible, robbing them both of normal breath for long moments.

“I’m dizzy,” she gasped softly, breaking the kiss for a moment. Her fingernails bit into his shoulders as she clung to him, and Gideon tightened his arms around her.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall,” he promised, trailing more kisses from the back of her ear down her neck and shoulder, finally finding his way to her breasts.

“You’re delicious,” he said roughly, drawing one ripe tip into his mouth and then the other, until she was whimpering and slack in his arms.

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