Unwrapping The Holidays. Sheryl Lister

she’d perhaps ever had in her brain. Gone. Poof.

      Jamie sucked in a deep breath. Cole stood statue-like as his hands flexed across her back. Tension wrapped around them, then crackled and Jamison didn’t know when she’d so acutely felt every feminine instinct.

      He quickly held her away an inch, but if she dared breathe again, her nipples were going to rub against his chest. She could feel his hands moving behind her as they stood, gazes locked, bodies not otherwise moving. Holy hell. Cole Nichols was just about the sexiest man she’d ever seen in her life. Easy does it. Remember last time you went down this path?

      Sure, he had an angled, sculpted jaw and cheekbones that made supermodels jealous and his dark lashes framed clear dark eyes. And of course there was the hair. It just looked soft to the touch. And there was no forgetting his body. She wondered if his abs still had abs. More than once when she’d been a teenager, she’d lost time just by trying to count them. She always got a little distracted around four and had to start recounting.

      But for her, the pinnacle of sexiness lay in Cole’s lips. His lips endlessly fascinated her. Back then. Not now. Because now she was an adult who knew better. They were full and curved in a hint of a mysterious, devilish smile. It was that smile that had her drooling all over him years ago. It was those lips that made her want to misbehave.

      And right now they were inches from hers. If she tipped up her face and stood on tiptoe and climbed up his body, she could press her lips to his. But Cole Nichols was not on the menu. You’re here to work.

      So distracted by his lips, she forgot about keeping her boobs to herself; she released the breath she’d been holding. When her breasts brushed against his chest she clamped her jaw tight to stop herself from moaning. But one escaped anyway.

      Cole’s eyes had fluttered shut but other than that, he was doing an excellent statue impression.

      When he opened them again, she saw annoyance, confusion and something else. It looked like hunger. But that couldn’t be right. She cleared her throat, and then stepped down off the stool, out of his arms. “I guess I’m done with these lights.” She nervously licked her lips.

      His voice was rough when he spoke. “You okay?”

      She nodded slowly. “Yeah. Good. Great even.” Cue awkward silence.

      “Sorry about the tree. A few branches broke when it fell.”

      “No big deal, I can get the fake one out of the closet.”

      “I can cut one from the property if you want. It’s one of the services we offer guests.”

      “God, no, you don’t have to do all that. I just wanted to get into the spirit since I’m working and all. I don’t need you to cut me down a tree.”

      He shoved his hands in his back pockets. “You never said why you were all alone for the holiday.”

      There was no way she was getting into that right now. “Long story. Family is in France and I am hoping for a Christmas miracle.”

      “Now who’s being mysterious?”

      * * *

      What the hell was wrong with him? Cutting down a tree? It had been years since he’d done this. His hands hurt. And his back was killing him. Hell, had it been this hard when he was a kid? Probably because his father had done the lion’s share of the work and he’d made snow angels.

      But it was all worth it when he used the sled to drag the tree into the house. Jamie squealed and clapped. “Oh my God, it’s perfect.” If only it was this easy to make all women happy.

      He’d never seen anyone so delighted over a damn tree. He was supposed to be working. A drink in his hand, basketball on in the background, laptop in his lap. That was the plan. Getting a Christmas tree wasn’t part of the equation.

      But look how happy it made her.

      The scent of cinnamon wafted in the air. “What’s that smell?”

      She glanced toward the kitchen. “Oh, well, you took a little longer than I thought, so I started on a batch of my mom’s cinnamon cookies.”

      “I really am rooming with a Christmas elf.”

      “You bet.” She grinned at him, all white teeth and dimples.

      She hummed Christmas songs as she pulled out a tray of cookies. And despite himself, Cole was starting to remember when Christmas had been fun. “So given your unholy love of the holiday, how did you end up all alone on Christmas? And don’t give me any bull about working.”

      She rolled her eyes even as she laughed. “It is not an unholy love.” She tossed a piece of popcorn at him, which he dodged. “Fine. Bad breakup. That unsettled me a little. Then I’ve been so consumed with work that I haven’t really come up for air, so no time to plan something major. The family was headed for a big trip, but I just couldn’t do that and stay focused.”

      He knew the feeling. “As of Thanksgiving I was single, so not really in the people kind of mood.”

      She frowned. “I’m sorry. What happened? Hotter supermodel came along?”

      Despite himself, his lips twitched. “No. That was the month before,” he teased. “She broke up with me.”

      “Oh damn. I’m sorry.” She winced. “Sometimes my mouth runs away from me.”

      “No, you’re good. I probably should have seen it coming. She showed more day-to-day interest in my stock portfolio than I did.” She was easy to talk to. Too easy.

      “Ah, so she had her sights set on a billionaire.”

      He laughed. “Yeah, I guess.”

      “Well, her loss. I think millionaires have a lot to offer. If only women would give them a chance.”

      He laughed and he threw a piece of popcorn at her. “You’re funny.”

      “I mean, I’m just saying, when did millionaires go out of style?”

      “Right?” he laughed. “I mean, I should be able to have at least two supermodel girlfriends.”

      He didn’t manage to dodge the popcorn she threw at him. One kernel hit him right on the nose. “You are gonna get it.”

      She squared her shoulders, and then put down the sewing needle she’d been using to thread the popcorn. “I’m not afraid of you, Nichols. I wasn’t when you drenched me at Matt’s pool party when I was eighteen. I’m not now.”

      He frowned. Oh hell, he hadn’t thought of that day in years. Who was he kidding? His subconscious pulled it out from time to time. Her brother had thrown an eighteenth birthday party. The whole team had gone. He’d started to come out of the haze of despair that had become his constant companion by then. He still didn’t know how he’d had any friends at that point. That second party had been the only time Cole had spoken to her after that kiss that had changed everything.

      She had refused to get in the water. Because he hadn’t known how to talk to her or apologize, he’d looped one arm around her waist and carried her in. In the water, he’d wanted to talk, to explain. To hold her.

      But she’d been angrier than a half-drenched kitten.

      “You sure about that, Jamison? I seem to recall you didn’t like me carrying you in. You probably don’t want all that popcorn in your hair.”

      She narrowed her dark eyes. “Who says I’m the one going to end up with popcorn in my hair?”

      He smirked. He liked that about her. Even when she was outmatched, she didn’t give—

      Another piece of popcorn hit him on the nose and she was off, running around the island.

      She was going to pay. He caught her easily enough and she laughed and squirmed while tossing pieces at him.

      He grabbed a handful and