Christmas Seduction. Jessica Lemmon

of truth she could cling to.

      “My schedule has been nuts this week. Everyone’s trying to get in before Thanksgiving.”

      “Ah. And you fit me in.” He grinned. “Because you couldn’t tell me no.”

      She made a pathetic choking sound. How arrogant was this guy, anyway? And how did he keep guessing right?

      “Because I have to make a living. I don’t have billions stashed away...” She almost added “like some people” but she was already protesting too much.

      “Right,” he agreed, but something in his expression told her he’d gleaned what she hadn’t said. “Well, thank you. For the mat.”

      He went to grab his coat, slipping it over his arms and holding the rolled mat between his knees.

      Feeling a dab of guilt, she moved toward him and vomited out a generic nicety. “Thank you for booking your session. I hope you’ll consider a membership.”

      His hand resting on the door handle, he turned as she stopped advancing, putting her mere inches from his handsome face. “I was thinking about another kind of one-on-one session. Are you available for dinner?”

      She hadn’t been prepared for that. Words eluded her. She knew that agreeing to go out with him was a bad idea, but when faced with his glittering blue eyes she couldn’t quite remember why.

      “Just so you know—” that blue gaze dipped to her mouth “—if you were ready, I’d kiss the hell out of you right now. Just to make sure I didn’t imagine how good you tasted before.”

      She gaped at him, but he didn’t advance to kiss her. Instead he turned around and stepped outside.

      Before she could shut the door, he pushed it open a crack. “Think about dinner. I’ll ask again.”

      She locked up behind him, watching him through the glass. He had a sure, strong gait, a disgustingly handsome mug, and looked as good in a suit as he did in sweatpants.

      There were a multitude of reactions fighting for first place. She wanted to open the door and yell for him to come back. She wanted to run upstairs and shut the blinds. She wanted to jog across the street and grab him by the ears and kiss the hell out of him.

      Especially that last one.

      While she warred with those options, frozen in stunned bliss at the possibilities, Tate grew farther and farther away until he was a shadowy blur disappearing into a path into the woods.

      “Damn him.” But she didn’t mean it. She was looking forward to next time—when she would leave him slack-jawed and without a response.

       Six

      Chaz’s Pub in Seattle was a far cry from the Brass Pony, with its scuffed floors and beaten tables. Tate walked in for the first time, took in the colorful red and green decorations, and decided he liked the place. Any establishment that decorated for Christmas before Thanksgiving had his undying respect.

      His brother Reid had invited him out to celebrate “the biggest drinking day of the year,” tacking on, “You’re British and it’s your duty to get pissed.”

      As overwhelming as it was to learn he had a brother and a set of parents he’d never met, Tate had to smile. Could’ve been the yoga. He’d been more relaxed since the session with Hayden, though the buzz afterwards could likely be blamed more on sexual tension than downward dog.

      The sexual tension part wasn’t entirely her fault. Tate and Claire hadn’t slept together since he’d found out about his family, and shortly after that she’d ended their engagement. In other words, it’d been a while.

      Plus, Hayden was sexy as hell, had a way of revving him up and calming him down simultaneously. When she hadn’t been touching him to move his body into proper form, he’d noticed her sliding from position to position. It’d been like watching an erotic dance.

      She was a unique experience, that was for damn sure.

      “Tate, hey!”

      A petite brunette bounced over to him, pulling him from his thoughts. Reid’s fiancée, Drew Fleming was as sweet as she was adorable and at the same time up to absolutely no good. He’d met her before—Reid had brought her when they’d gone out for drinks or dinners.

      She looped her left arm in Tate’s, and he glanced down at the sizable diamond ring on her hand. Reid had proposed around the time Tate’s engagement had ended, as if Reid was an alien who had taken over Tate’s life. Wasn’t Tate supposed to be the one with the stable family life and fiancée?

      “The boys are over there. I’ll walk with you. But then I’m returning to the dance floor with the girls. Andy and Sabrina,” she reminded him.

      “Fiancées of Gage and Flynn.”

      “You remembered!”

      He had. Gage and Flynn were Reid’s best friends and coworkers. He’d met the whole gang in passing at one time or another.

      Drew guided Tate to a high, round table with several stools surrounding it. Full glasses of Guinness were in front of each of the guys, suggesting they hadn’t been here long.

      “There he is.” Reid wore the wide smile Tate envied. Not that Tate didn’t want his brother to be happy, but he’d like to stockpile some of that for himself. Wanted to feel with certainty that tomorrow would come, and things would return to normal again.

      “Found a stray,” Drew released Tate and laid a kiss on Reid’s cheek. He didn’t let her get away, snagging her waist and dipping her low while kissing her thoroughly. Next to them, Flynn grinned, but Gage was less enthralled by the PDA.

      “Still getting used to that,” Gage grumbled as Tate took his seat. Gage was Drew’s older brother, and Reid and Drew had kept their relationship from Gage until long after things had gotten serious between them.

      “Hang in there, buddy.” Flynn slapped Gage’s back and let out a baritone chuckle. “Tate, man, how are you?”

      Tate nodded, having no other word than a generic “fine.”

      “You need a beer,” Flynn announced, waving down a waitress and to order one.

      “Off with you, then.” Reid swatted his fiancée’s butt and she giggled, radiantly aglow. Once she’d scampered off, Reid’s smile stuck to his face like glue. “She’s pregnant.”

      Flynn nearly spit out his beer.

      Gage turned an interesting shade of pale green.

      “Congratulations,” Tate said, figuring that was a safe response given the size of Reid’s grin.

      “Are pigs flying?” Flynn asked, his eyebrows meeting over the bridge of his nose. “Did hell freeze over? Am I having a stroke?” He turned to Gage and asked, “Do you smell burned toast?”

      Gage shook his head, but his color returned. “Maybe we’re all suffering from strokes. Reid Singleton: engaged and soon-to-be dad. What gives?”

      “Drew. She’s...Drew.” Reid grinned bigger.

      “I know how amazing she is. She’s my sister.” Then, as if it dawned on him at that moment, Gage smiled, too. “I’m going to be an uncle.”

      “Me, too. Technically.” Flynn shrugged.

      “And you,” Reid dipped his chin at Tate. “Legitimately.”

      Right. Tate hadn’t thought about that. Reid wasn’t only a friend he was getting to know. He was a blood relative. The waitress delivered a Guinness, and Tate drank down the top third without coming up for air.

      A pair of high-pitched squeals lifted on the air, and the guys turned toward the dance floor, where