Red-Hot Santa. Tori Carrington

make an appointment with the dentist …

      Friends. Best friends. That’s what they’d always been. He’d had her back, and she’d had his. When neither of them were in a relationship, they’d sought out each other for company. Platonic company. From swimming in the Keys, kayaking the Colorado River, day-long hikes through whatever remote forest they could find, she’d always enjoyed his company. Sometimes they’d talk about their struggles with understanding the opposite sex, as if they didn’t qualify for the status, but most times they joked, challenged and dared each other.

      Then there’d been those occasions when simple platonic affection had threatened to balloon into much more …

      Merely remembering the times they’d wrestled around on the ground, or playfully tussled in the water, her sexual awareness taking her breath away, made her all hot and bothered.

      Jackson … well, Jackson was as hot as they came. All golden haired goods looks and animal magnetism.

      But it was much more than that. Much, much more. She knew what the man himself was made of. She knew that beating in his chest was a heart of gold that left him loyal to his family, doing anything for his grandmother and brother Jason … and loyal to his friends. She knew he’d be the first to stand in the face of danger, to put his life on the line if he knew it might save someone else’s.

      It was in those moments when barriers dropped, that she glimpsed what life might be like for them as a couple …

      And she’d turned away, always refusing herself the indulgence. She was afraid of the enormity of her emotions, afraid of tarnishing their friendship.

      And afraid of leaving herself vulnerable. While threat of physical pain had never fazed her, leaving her heart exposed and unprotected scared the living daylights out of her.

      If only because she’d witnessed firsthand what it had done to her mother.

      Done to their family.

      Now …

      Well, now was different. She was no longer that rebellious girl who’d run away and holed up in his barn. The girl afraid of her emotions … and of him.

      Now she wanted to push that envelope, dive into those depths, explore them, face her one and only fear.

      She needed to learn that untouched side of her, the one she’d ignored, neglected and tried to shut out.

      She needed to feel him …

      HOLY SHIT.

      The two words wound around Jackson’s brain as he watched Max sitting with her friends. He kept looking for reasons to talk to her but there never seemed to be an opportunity, considering one nonstop flow of thirsty customers who kept him busy. And he never saw her go out back for another smoke break.

      He scratched his head as he rang up the latest order, looking for her again in the smoky mirror behind the bar. She was standing in front of the old fashioned jukebox considering the selections. His gaze fell to her nicely rounded backside and then up to where the soft cotton of her top clung to breasts fuller than he remembered. His back stiffened as he watched a guy approach her. Not just any guy, but Tom, whom they referred to as the bar “manwhore.” Just the type Max would hate on sight.

      He braced himself, wondering if Tom would take it to the head or the gut.

      Here it comes …

      He watched as Tom not too nonchalantly slid his hand over her back, down toward her bottom. Max easily avoided the move and actually smiled before heading back to her table.

      Jackson blinked. Who was this woman? She looked the same. Well, for the most part. The red curls were the same except they appeared smoother, somehow. Less wild. Her eyes were the same green but appeared brighter. And was she wearing makeup?

      Jackson was confused. The Max he knew wouldn’t be caught dead in that sexy outfit, not before or during her stint in the Marines, much less handle what she just had with smiling ease. She’d have been much more likely to twist the guy’s arm behind his back and shove his face into the jukebox until he apologized for the unwanted advance.

      Jackson met her gaze in the mirror and that mysterious smile she’d been offering him all night made a command appearance.

      Holy shit.

      Where was the easy camaraderie they always enjoyed? The knowing that came along with their lifelong friendship?

      Christ, he felt like a twelve-year-old kid in the throes of his first crush.

      And that was not something he was used to feeling toward a woman who was essentially his best friend.

      Hell, it wasn’t something he was used to feeling, period.

      This went well beyond physical attraction—which should be enough to cause concern when it came to Max …

      His brain froze.

      No way he was going where his thoughts and unfamiliar emotions were attempting to lead him. It was bad enough he recognized the desire to touch her in ways he never had before. To consider anything more would be akin to emotional suicide.

      “Hey, did you get that, Savage?” Chuck asked.

      He blinked at the bar owner. As en ex-Marine, Chuck Thomas had a healthy respect for military kindred and ran a tight operation. When things got busy, so did he. Of course, it didn’t help that Chuck wasn’t happy Jackson would no longer be working at the bar. He’d made noises about looking to sell the place, and admitted he had hoped Jackson might be interested. Jackson had been surprised, but quick to tell Chuck it wasn’t in the cards for him.

      “Sorry,” he said to his taciturn boss now, keeping the peace. “I was working up the last order. Afraid I overcharged.”

      “Better than under. I asked for two pitchers of light and six glasses. Can you handle it?”

      “Got it.”

      Jackson took a deep breath, telling himself he really needed to get a grip. This was Max, for Pete’s sake. It wasn’t like he didn’t know her. And Lord knew he’d never reacted this way toward her before. She was like a sister to him, for crying out loud.

      He cleared his throat. Oh, yeah? If she was like a sister, then certain body parts told him what he was contemplating was very, very wrong, indeed.

      “Hey, Jax.”

      Her greeting nearly caused him to spill the pitcher he’d just filled. He put it on a tray along with the other one.

      “Hey,” he said.

      He finished the order and Genie picked up the tray. He didn’t miss the long look she gave Max.

      “I’ve been meaning to ask, when did you get back into town?” he asked. It couldn’t have been long. He’d have heard something before now. Then he remembered her phone call. “The last I knew, you were kicking around Oregon.”

      “Washington.”

      He smiled. “Close enough.”

      “Yeah.” She pushed up her sleeves, drawing his attention to the too-tight top and the full breasts underneath. Had she always had those? Why hadn’t he noticed before? “I got back late last week.”

      “Staying long?”

      She tilted her head. “Don’t know yet. Depends …”

      He met her gaze, seeing a question in there he didn’t quite know how to interpret. Then again, he was having a hard time reading her tonight, period. Or, rather, he was finding it impossible to read his new, unfamiliar reaction to her.

      “On what?”

      “On whether or not I can scare up some work. You wouldn’t happen to have a line on anything, would you?”

      “What are you looking for?”

      “Something I’m qualified for that doesn’t require I learn how