A Dream Christmas. Кэрол Мортимер

freakin’ fantastic.’ James finally took his eyes off the photograph and looked at her and the expression in his eyes had the potential to stop her heart. He was looking at her in a way that every woman should be looked at, just once in her life. As if the sun and moon and stars rose with her and only her.

      James lifted his hands to cradle her face and he lowered his head to brush his lips across hers. ‘Thank you … for doing this. Thank you for the thought you put into this. Thank you for my early Christmas present.’

      ‘Pleasure,’ Riley said against his lips. She expected him to step away and then his lips covered hers in a kiss that shot electricity to her toes. She opened her mouth to say something, she wasn’t sure what, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside and she was lost. She was vaguely aware that his hands left her face so that his arms could haul her closer to him and then she was pressed up and against him, his arm easily holding her against his hard, muscular frame. This was heaven, she thought, and hell. Heaven because there was nothing better than being kissed by James, hell because she knew they had to stop before they went too far.

      They couldn’t sleep together again, she told herself. She wasn’t going to do that again. But she could just kiss him, just for a little while longer.

      His stubble tickled as he touched his lips to her cheekbone, nibbled her jawbone. His fingers found her breast and through the material of her shirt he massaged her nipple and teased it into an excited peak. She felt her panties dampen and when he started fumbling with the buttons on her shirt she knew that she had to stop because if he kissed her one more time, if he touched her there she would be lost … again.

      Riley pushed her hands against his chest. ‘James, stop.’

      It took a couple more kisses and the zip of her jeans was down before James got the message. He glowered down at her. ‘We’re really stopping?’

      ‘Yes.’

      He dropped an F-bomb into the heavy silence that followed her answer. ‘Why?’

      Riley pulled up her zip and straightened her shirt. ‘Because we’re not doing this again. Because we’re not going to have another one-night stand. Because I’m slowly getting my friend back and I don’t want to lose him again! Because I’m leaving … Pick a reason, James. Any of them work.’

      ‘They all suck,’ James muttered, his eyes tightly closed. ‘If I don’t get sex soon I swear I am going to die.’

      He was James Moreau—surely he got sex all the time? While the thought of him being with anyone else made her feel physically ill, she wasn’t stupid. James was a good-looking, rich, charming man who could get all the sex he wanted whenever he wanted it and she couldn’t imagine him abstaining for any length of time.

      He opened his eyes to glare at her. ‘Do you know how long five months actually is when you’re not having sex?’

      ‘Um … five months?’

      ‘Far too bloody long.’

      Then a bank-load of pennies dropped—five months was when they were last at Bon Chance together. ‘You haven’t had sex since … me?’

      James held her eyes and nodded.

       Well … hell.

      Except that she wasn’t idiot enough to believe him. ‘According to the entertainment pages, I wouldn’t have thought so. Your social life has been as hectic as ever.’ Riley grimaced at her waspish tone.

      ‘You know better than to believe anything you read in the press, Riley. I haven’t had sex with anyone since you,’ he said, emphasising every word.

      ‘Liar,’ Riley whispered.

      ‘Truth.’

      Not knowing what to think, she waved at his trousers. ‘When that subsides, you’ll thank me.’

      ‘Trust me, I won’t,’ James grumbled.

      ‘It’s for the best, James.’ Riley managed a small smile. ‘I’m glad you like what I’ve done with your place but I think I’m going to go now.’

       As in right now … while my legs are still receiving messages from my brain.

       CHAPTER FIVE

      ‘THAT WAS SUCH FUN. I haven’t skated for years.’

      Riley, her face bright pink with exercise and cold, shoved her hand into the crook of James’s arm as they walked past the magnificent giant Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center, its two glorious trumpeting angels on either side. Her lips twitched from trying to keep her laugh from bubbling out. ‘Your style was … interesting.’

      James looked down at her. ‘Oh, you like the way that I grip the railing? Jeez, a snail could’ve passed me.’

      ‘Three-year-olds did,’ Riley pointed out. ‘It’s so nice to know that you suck at something, Moreau. You always do everything so well that it’s a relief to know that you aren’t perfect.’

      ‘Far from it, Ri.’ James knew that her words held merit. And they should since he’d worked hard to perfect the facade he presented to the world—rich, fun, charming, unavailable, and he knew exactly how to project whatever the situation required. Very few people had ever managed to peek behind the mask and he liked it that way. Except that Riley did and always had.

      There was little room for failure in his life and it felt odd to feel as relaxed, as comfortable with Riley as he did, the other party in one of his two personal failures. It was all such a long time ago and he’d been young and she’d been even younger and a part of him thought he could almost forgive the stupid kids they’d been. It didn’t mean that love was on the cards for him—until he understood the concept, he’d avoid it—but he was happy to be with her, to have her friendship again, even if he did live his life semi-erect these days since sex with Riley was pretty much all he fantasised about.

      She was too good a friend and too talented an employee to lose.

      ‘I need to get home, Jay,’ Riley said as they stopped at a traffic light, her gloved hand now in his bare one. ‘Whistle for a taxi for me?’

      James turned to face her. ‘Come home with me. I have a surprise for you.’

      Riley sent him her patented what-are-you-up-to-now? look. ‘A good surprise or a bad surprise?’

      ‘A good surprise, oh, cynical one. And, to sweeten the pot, I’ll tell you that I’ve received a case of Bon Chance’s Merlot—’

      ‘My Merlot?’ Riley almost danced on the spot. ‘The 2004?’

      ‘Yep,’ James confirmed. ‘But you’ll have to come to my place to drink it. And you’ll have to do a bit of work.’

      ‘Jeez, I’ve decorated your apartment, I’ve bought your Christmas gifts and I’ve organised your Christmas party,’ she complained good-naturedly. ‘What else do you want me to do?’

      ‘You’ll see,’ James said cryptically. ‘You haven’t bought Morgan and Noah’s wedding present yet; is that why you’re hanging onto my credit card?’

      She looked at him from under those long, long lashes. ‘Mmm. I suppose I should tell you that I used it at a number of Madison Avenue stores today. Thanks for my new winter wardrobe, by the way.’

      James shook his head and grinned. ‘Liar.’

      Riley sucked in her cheeks to keep herself from smiling. ‘How can you tell?’

      James placed his hand on the back of her neck. ‘Firstly, you can’t lie worth a damn. Secondly, you’re not the type to allow any man to buy your clothes and thirdly, you would consider