Wild Holiday Nights. Samantha Hunter

right,” she gasped, thankful he remembered. “Lemme...”

      She disengaged herself from this delightful position and reached out to the vanity, where she opened a drawer and reached in to get a small foil packet.

      Good to go.

      Ripping it open, she sank to her knees in the shower and before she applied it, let herself enjoy one more luxury as she closed her lips over him instead. Her body went into overdrive at the sensation of his wet, velvety skin against her tongue, pressing into the back of her throat.

      “Stop,” he commanded brusquely. She knew why and let him pull her up again as her hands deftly covered him.

      This time he positioned her face-first against the tile, her hands braced as he widened her stance from behind.

      “Okay?” he asked softly, against her ear.

      “More than,” she managed, levering her hips back slightly in invitation.

      He took that invitation as he nudged against her, experimenting, and then entering her body deeply until they were both gasping with the intensity of it. Calla had never felt so turned on—at the same time, she felt so safe and supported as his arms came around her.

      His hands covered her breasts as he started to move, gently strumming his fingers over her tender skin. He whispered hot endearments in her ear in between kisses along the back of her neck.

      Calla couldn’t form words, only sounds, as he picked up the pace, thrusting faster while covering her hands with his against the wall, their fingers entwining. Her body welcomed him, clutching and wanting more. She rolled her hips in rhythm with his thrusts until they were both crying out, their bodies pulsing together in a long, hard climax.

      Calla lost track of time, of how long they stood there, joined, wringing every last second of pleasure from each other. All she knew, as he turned her to him and slid his hands into her wet hair as he kissed her, was that she wanted more.

4

      GIDEON HAD TRAVELED a bit, usually in connection with his job, but he’d never fallen for a city like he did for New York. Or maybe it was the woman who lived here, but suddenly the bleakness of the past few months faded, making everything magical again.

      He sat in the corner of the bakery studio reading as Calla worked on building and decorating the bell cake for the gathering of people outside. She’d built a clever trellis to arrange the bells on, her ingenuity captivating him. She was clever in and out of bed, he thought with a smile.

      And just as thorough.

      Everyone knew that the decorated windows were a huge draw in the city this time of year, but he found it hard to believe that anything could match watching Calla work.

      Well, except for watching Calla stretch sensuously beneath him, her hair scattered over a pillow as he planted himself deep inside her body, but that wasn’t for public consumption.

      Looking past her, he realized that nothing here was decorated. Nothing in her apartment had been, either. Not even a wreath on the door or lights in the window.

      Calla was having a difficult time drawing attention to her business. The shop was surviving, but barely, she’d confided. She was even considering moving out of her apartment to save money for the bakery, living here in her office until things picked up.

      Gideon admired her determination, but he hoped things wouldn’t go to that extreme. Her shop space was nice, but not livable. He thought of all the nights he’d stayed overnight at the station, sleeping on the couch in his small office or even at his desk, but that was different. Some cases took a long time to settle. Calla was thinking about giving up her living space just to save her business. There had to be another way.

      He walked back into Calla’s office to make a phone call to his sister. After explaining the situation, he hoped he could get some ideas of how to help Calla, and he did. Now the trick would be to convince her to go along with it.

      Calla had gone outside, handing out samples, and he was glad to see her chatting a bit with the group. And giving them her business cards. She’d listened to him about connecting with her audience.

      But what made them come back every day? What made them want more?

      Gideon had an idea, but he wasn’t sure Calla would like it. She was so hardworking, but that dedication to her work, along with the worry about her business, created so much stress that she was missing out on the fun. People saw her work hard, but that’s all they saw. Maybe he could help show them something more—what he saw in her.

      When she came back in, her cheeks rosy from the cold, he took a dollop of icing on his finger and dabbed it to her nose before she could sit back down.

      “Gideon! What—”

      He grabbed a towel from the counter as he pulled her toward him with the other hand. But instead of wiping the frosting from her nose, he caught it with his tongue and then pressed his mouth to hers in a gentle, sweet kiss—literally sweet as they shared the frosting.

      For a moment, heat leaped between them as Calla melted against him before remembering where they were. She pulled away, looking scandalized.

      “Gideon!”

      She had no need to worry. The crowd, as they often said, went wild. Applause and cheers met them from the half dozen or so people who had witnessed the kiss.

      “The wedding cake lady has a boyfriend!” someone said.

      “And he’s hot!” another voice chimed in.

      Gideon grinned and Calla looked struck dumb.

      The look she gave him wasn’t a friendly one.

      “What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed under her breath.

      “Just go with it,” he said in her ear.

      Calla slid Gideon a look as she promptly closed the shades.

      “Gideon—”

      “Calla,” he said at the same time, and they both stopped.

      He smiled; she sighed.

      Gideon crossed over to her and put his hands on her shoulders.

      “Hear me out. When you were working, I had an idea. I called my sister to ask her about how you could do some marketing, and I told her how you work in the window.”

      “Yeah?”

      Gideon nodded, encouraged at the flicker of interest in her expression. And the satisfied flush in her cheeks from his kiss.

      “Yes. She said the performance baking is good, but people can’t necessarily connect with it.”

      “I don’t understand—who can’t connect with cake? And weddings?”

      “That’s true, but what you do is really about romance. Happily ever afters, right? And yet your storefront isn’t making that connection. Giving them something to relate to, and something to root for.”

      “Or looking like someone who seems completely unprofessional.”

      “I doubt that, not when they see how hard you work. Diedre said that you need to do something that could really draw attention. You have to admit, that kiss drew some attention.”

      “I still don’t get it, and I can’t see how this will make people buy more cakes.”

      “Because it will get them talking—to others at work, or at home—and it will bring them back. My mother was telling me about coffee commercials they ran back in the eighties, I think, where each commercial was like a story over coffee. People wanted to watch the commercials to see what happened—and then they bought the coffee because they liked the story. If people watch you and make the connection between what you do and romance, that’s stronger