White-Hot Christmas (7 page)

Bree went off, laughing. Merle lay back and her hand crept under the covers to find the flowers. Thank goodness she wouldn’t see him again. Because she could very easily fall in love with him, and that most definitely would not end well.

The next day, Bree had planned them so much to do, Merle thought she wouldn’t have time to think about her wild night with Neon. However, it surprised her how often he crept into her thoughts. While walking around the Te Waimate Mission House, or watching the water tumbling at Rainbow Falls, the thought of him kissing her and the memory of his sandy skin under her fingertips kept popping into her head. Each time, it made her shiver, her cheeks flushing as she thought of how bold she’d been.

That night when she finally got to bed at Bree and Jake’s house in Kerikeri, she lay there listening to the kiwi birds crying in the bush. She thought of his mischievous brown eyes and the way he’d been so gentle with her, and her mood gradually started to sour.

For as much as she’d enjoyed herself—and she had, very, very much—part of her had begun to wonder if sleeping with him had been the best idea. Now she couldn’t rid herself of the thought of what it would be like to be married to a man who made her feel like that every day of every year. Imagine going to bed and being able to have sex like that as often as you liked. The thought made her tingle all over, and she cursed as she realised she would now judge every man she met against him and probably find them wanting.

No, that couldn’t be the case. He was far from perfect. Yes he was gorgeous, but there was no way he was marriage material. She’d slept with him out of a purely physical need, and she had to keep reminding herself of that fact.

Her ideal man would be as good looking as Neon Carter but would also be interested in the same things as her and wouldn’t be commitment-phobic—a man who would play with her at night and also entertain her during the day with his mind as well as his body.

However, as she dozed off to sleep, thinking about this mysterious man, he looked surprisingly like the rugby-playing, surfing firefighter she’d had such fun with the night before.

The following day was Christmas Eve, and during the day, Merle went shopping in town with Bree, buying tree presents for the kids who were going to be at the party Jake’s parents were having that afternoon.

“Are you sure they don’t mind me coming?” she asked when they stopped for a quick coffee and a bite to eat in one of the many cafes in Bree’s beautiful, tropical town. “I haven’t had a proper invite.” She sipped her latte, admiring the silver fern the barista had managed to create in the foam of milk on the top. It made her think of the koru in Neon’s tattoo, and she gave a small sigh, trying to concentrate on what Bree was saying.

“We don’t do invites in New Zealand.” Bree laughed. “Honestly, Merle, it’s so informal here. People are always turning up out of the blue. And anyway, it’s not like a sit-down do or anything, it’s only a barbie. Mum would be horrified.” She grinned. Merle smiled, but there was an underlying tinge of sadness beneath it, and Bree sobered. “Crap, I shouldn’t have mentioned Mum. How was she this morning?”

“Okay.” Merle didn’t want to spoil her sister’s Christmas Eve. Susan had been tearful and aggressive on the phone, laying on the guilt about being lonely and left on her own. Merle knew her mother had been invited around to her uncle’s house and would love being with all his children and grandchildren, but she still felt bad.

She’d wanted to cry at the anger and fear tarnishing her mother’s voice. Merle knew Susan loved her and Bree. She tried to tell herself that when Susan said such terrible, hurtful things, it was the after-effects of the illness talking, not her, but deep down, Merle knew her mother had been like this before she grew ill. She’d always been manipulative, even when the girls were younger—it was just now she had a convenient excuse to hide behind.

Then guilt flooded her. Susan’s insistence that she was still sick, that they hadn’t got all the cancer, meant it was still possible the illness was dictating her behaviour. The doctors had insisted she was clear, but Merle was beginning to wonder whether her mother’s claims that she could almost feel the disease clawing its way through her were just dramatic license intended to make her feel guilty or actually the truth. Might that explain why she was so cruel, so ravaged by fear and hurt?

It hadn’t helped that Bree had run out to the shops, and Susan had been convinced her daughter was avoiding her. Which was possibly true. Susan had asked how Bree was, hoping, Merle knew, she would say Bree appeared lonely and desperate to come home.

She’d been unable to lie, knowing if she did so, it would only drag out the misery. “Bree’s fine, Mum,” she’d said. “She loves it here and she’s happy. I’m sorry.” The irony of apologising for her sister’s happiness hadn’t escaped her, but Susan didn’t notice and burst into tears, and Merle spent an exhausting half an hour trying to comfort her. But at least the phone call was done for the day and she’d promised she would ring in the evening on their Boxing Day, and she would make sure Bree was there this time. She’d have to bully Bree to the phone. Bree didn’t feel half as much guilt as she did, and always got exasperated when she knew her mother was demanding to talk to her.

Finishing their coffee and muffins, they went back to Bree’s house to get ready for the party. Merle looked through her clothes, wondering what to wear. It was a lot warmer in the Northland than she’d expected, and the T-shirts she’d brought seemed too warm in the sultry, humid weather. Eventually she chose a dark pink camisole and a beautiful, long multicolour skirt she adored but was also cool. It was too hot for underwear, and she left off her bra and panties. Luckily Neon wasn’t going to be there, or Lord knew what he would think. Bree had already assured her he was going to his folks’ for Christmas Eve.

They arrived at around six at Jake’s parents’ house, a stunning four-bedroom house in the middle of nowhere, or so it seemed to Merle, used to terraced and semidetached houses with about an inch of garden, where you could hear the neighbours shouting or having sex through the walls. Several acres of paddocks and bamboo trees surrounded the house, with bush to the south, and the only sounds she could hear were the tuis in the trees and the rush of the river at the bottom.

Jake introduced her to his parents and the rest of his family. Everyone was friendly and laid back. Merle wandered through the spacious living room and out the large sliding doors to the deck, humming to the Christmas songs playing. How wonderful to live in a place like this. A couple of bright-coloured parrots Bree had told her were called rosellas flew past her into the bush. She loved England, but there was something special about this country. She could see why Bree had fallen in love with it.

She paused on the deck. There were more people outside, relaxing on the loungers, some playing with the kids on the lawn, others working on the smoking barbecue. A few looked over and nodded hello, and she smiled.

Her gaze alighted on a figure lying on one of the loungers, and her heart seemed to shudder to a stop. She stared at Neon, who lay stretched out with his hands behind his head, wearing dark glasses and a brilliantly white short-sleeved shirt that made him look incredibly tanned, with dark blue shorts, barefoot as usual. Of course she couldn’t see what he was looking at with his sunglasses on. Had he seen her? She turned and went straight back inside, heart pounding, walking through the house until she found Bree.

“You told me he wouldn’t be here.”

Bree studied her. Clearly she knew exactly who Merle was referring to. “I lied. Now chill out and go and get a drink.”

Merle glared at her, but Bree walked off to talk to Jake’s mum. Merle went over to the table where bottles of wine, beers and an assortment of alcohol-free drinks were scattered and started pouring herself a glass of Sauvignon.
Shit, shit, shit
. Her hand shook, slopping some of the wine over the side. Damn Bree and her stupid bet.

She felt a presence behind her and closed her eyes, not looking around, knowing who it was likely to be.

“Why don’t you let me do that for you?” His deep voice sounded amused. He took the bottle from her hand. “Seems a shame to waste it.” She heaved a sigh as he pressed against her back, leaning over to pour the rest of the glass. His voice, when he spoke again, was very close to her ear. “Well, look at you, Merle Cameron, blushing like a sixteen-year-old virgin. Aren’t you delightful?”

Her cheeks burned. He filled the glass and placed the bottle on the table, but he didn’t pull away. His hand rested on her hip.

She turned her head slightly but couldn’t look up at him. “Hello, Neon.”

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Her face was so hot she knew her cheeks were scarlet. Her body tingled where he pressed against her at her shoulder and hip.
Best to address the issue immediately and then move on
. “I didn’t get to say thank you, by the way…for the other night. And for the flowers. They were very…thoughtful.”

“How very British, so polite.” He nuzzled her ear. “You’re very welcome. It was my…pleasure.” He dropped a kiss on her shoulder, sending a hot rush through her.

Behind them, Jake said, “Come on you two, get a room.”

Neon laughed, and she turned and glared at them both before picking up her glass and walking away. This was bad, bad news. She knocked back half the wine in one go. How on earth would she make it through the evening with him watching her with those gorgeous, hot brown eyes?

Jake winked at Neon. “I can’t believe it. Looks like the ice queen’s finally thawed. Am I about to lose our bet?”

Neon twisted the top off a beer and grinned. “I’m working on it.”

“Bree told me what happened at the beach. You lucky bastard. Don’t know how you manage it.”

“Neither do I, in this case.” Neon took a swig from the bottle. “I told you I wouldn’t make a move on her. It was her suggestion.”

Jake’s eyes nearly rose off the top of his forehead. “You’re shitting me.”

“I shit you not.”

“Jeez… Bree said she’d bet Merle she wouldn’t have sex while on holiday, but I’d assumed you’d had to talk her into it.”

Neon stared at him. “Bree said what?”

Jake carried on, oblivious to the way Neon’s smile had faded. “She was talking to Merle about the fact that Merle hadn’t had sex for ages, and Bree bet her she wouldn’t be brave enough to ask a guy for a one-night stand. Bree was stunned Merle had the courage to go through with it.”

Neon stared after Merle. She stood in the doorway to the decking, silhouetted by the sun. Once again her skirt was semitransparent and he could see the shape of her long legs. He could remember how it had felt to have them wrapped around him.

So, she had asked him to bed her because of a bet? He felt strangely insulted. And yet, what difference did it make? Bree had only given her a gentle push—she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t want to. Though she hadn’t mentioned Bree’s part in it, it wasn’t as if she’d slept with him out of false pretences. She’d been quite willing to leave after the first time and had made no show of demanding to see him again afterward. She’d been quite clear she wanted a bit of fun and nothing more.

And let’s not be so hypocritical.
He had made the bet with Jake, after all, even if it had been in jest.

Still, he felt annoyed at being manipulated. He wasn’t quite sure how he had been, but he felt certain it had happened. So, she thought she controlled this situation? Well, he had something to say about that.

He sipped his beer. She stood slightly turned toward him and he could see the shape of her soft breasts beneath the pink top. Clearly she wasn’t wearing a bra, and he was pretty sure she wasn’t wearing panties either. Damn, now he had a hard-on. Perhaps she was more in control than he thought.

He walked up to her in the doorway. She glanced up as he paused, stepping aside to let him pass, her back up against the edge of the sliding door, but he didn’t continue. Instead he moved closer until he was an inch away, looking down at her. Her eyes were the colour of a Kiwi summer sky. Her soft mouth was slightly parted, and her tongue moistened her lips as he looked at them.

Lowering his head before she could move away, he kissed her. He kept one hand in his pocket, and the other held his beer bottle—the only place they touched was their lips. Once he knew she wasn’t going to move, he made it a long, leisurely kiss, stroking her tongue with his, enjoying the taste of her. It did nothing to help the problem in his shorts, but at that moment he didn’t care.

Behind them, someone whistled and then everyone cheered.

Neon lifted his head, casting his family an amused glance before looking back at her. Her cheeks had flushed again, and she looked up at him, blinking a few times.

“What was that for?” She sounded breathless. He looked up, and she followed his gaze, seeing the bunch of mistletoe nailed above the door.

“Merry Christmas.” He lowered his shades and took a swig from his beer, walking back to his lounger. Stretching out, he watched her stare at him. He blew her a kiss. Slowly, her lips curled. She looked gorgeous standing there, blonde hair lifting in the summer breeze, and suddenly he was very aware he was interested in more than a one-night stand.

Chapter Six

The evening grew long as the sun gradually set, and Jake’s mum brought out some citronella candles and lamps to keep the insects away, bathing the decking in a yellow glow. The warm, humid air made Merle’s hair stick to the back of her neck, and her skin was damp with perspiration.

Neon had kept his distance since he’d kissed her, choosing a seat across the other side of the decking when the barbecue was ready and not approaching her, even when he walked inside to get another drink.

Unfortunately, it didn’t help Merle at all. She was as acutely conscious of him as if they were attached by a piece of electric cable. Every time he moved, or said something, or laughed—which he did a lot—she felt as if a thousand volts had passed along the cable between them. Eventually she sat back in her chair, brooding as she listened to him relating anecdotes to the members of his family sitting around him, causing everyone to laugh frequently at his amusing tales. He was funny and smarter than she had given him credit for—he had to be or he wouldn’t have such a sharp wit and the ability to give such a quick retort.