A Magical Christmas. Elizabeth Rolls

for the underwear. It felt soft and flimsy in her fingers, a whisper of wicked temptation.

      Pulling it on, she turned to look at herself in the mirror. She’d never worn anything so light and delicate. It was like wearing nothing, and the tulle bra fitted her small frame perfectly.

      She had a feeling Coco Chanel would have approved.

      Piling the heavy mass of her hair on top of her head, she pouted and struck a pose and then shook her head.

      She looked ridiculous.

      If she walked into Tyler’s room looking like this, he’d laugh. She could imagine his expression.

      And then the door to her bedroom opened, and she didn’t have to imagine his expression because he was standing in the doorway looking as if he’d been caught in the path of an avalanche. And there was no sign of laughter.

       “Holy—”

      “Tyler! What are you doing here? Get out!” She dropped her arms and tried to cover herself, then snatched the damp towel from the floor but it caught in her foot and she crashed down onto polished wood in a tangle of long limbs and black transparent underwear.

      Dignity shredded, she lay sprawled at his feet thinking that when Coco Chanel had referred to a date with destiny, she hadn’t anticipated that it would look anything like this. She felt as if she’d let the whole of womankind down.

      Sorry, Coco.

      She heard Tyler inhale and assumed it was because he’d never witnessed anything more clumsy or less provocative in his life.

      “Are you all right?”

      “No, I’m not all right! You’re supposed to at least knock or something. Oh, my God, Tyler, just—go!” She felt the burn in her cheeks, and anger mingled with frustration, all aimed at herself. Élise or Christy would have given him a feline smile and beckoned him into the room. They wouldn’t have fallen over and yelled at him.

      “Are you hurt?” Instead of leaving, he hunkered down next to her so that those powerful shoulders were eye level.

      “Yes. No.” Her pride was hurt. Her confidence decimated. “What are you doing here?”

      “I came to say—I wanted to—” His gaze dropped to the tulle bra. “Why are you wearing that? Where are you going?”

      She could hardly tell him she was about to march into his bedroom and make an indecent proposition. He’d laugh at her, and she couldn’t even blame him.

      “I was getting dressed.”

      “Why?” His eyes darkened, his mouth unsmiling. “Are you going out with Josh again?”

      “No!”

      “Then why are you walking around dressed like something out of a bad boy’s dream? Is that what you wear under your ski pants? If I’d known, I would have wiped out years ago.”

      And in that moment, hearing those words, she stopped feeling like a fraud and started to feel like a woman.

      She’d already told the truth. How could more of the same truth make things worse?

      “I was trying it on. Plucking up courage to walk into your room and proposition you.”

      His gaze lifted from the transparent bra, to her mouth, and then finally met her eyes.

      “Excuse me?” His voice was husky, those eyes a wicked blue under thick, dark lashes that sent his sex appeal rocketing off the scale.

      “I don’t agree with what you said last night.” She thought of Elizabeth’s words. “You wanted to put the clock back, to pretend it never happened, but we can’t do that. We can’t go back, Tyler, only forward. We’re both a little freaked out by what happened, but it happened so now we have a choice.” Her voice was firm. “And this is mine.”

      He was still, his breathing uneven.

      She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t.

      Color seeped into her cheeks, a slow simmer of humiliation. Had she read him wrong? Was he about to tell her he wasn’t interested? That last night had been the result of too much whiskey and honesty?

      Her fragile confidence evaporated in the heat of the silence.

      “All right, this is embarrassing.” She pushed her hair away from her face with a shaky hand. “You need to go, Tyler. Right now.”

      “Go?” He seemed to be struggling to speak. “You went to all that effort to gain my attention, and now you want me to walk away?”

      “Because you’re obviously not interested!”

      That statement was greeted by another lengthy silence. “Which part of what I’m doing makes you think I’m not interested?”

      “The fact that you’re not saying anything for a start.”

      “Honey, you’re sprawled in front of me wearing pretty much nothing but an anxious look,” he drawled. “I’m a man. We’re simple creatures. My brain shut down the moment I saw what you were wearing. It’s kind of hard for me to string a sentence together right now, so you need to be gentle with me.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand.

      Startled, she looked up at him. What she saw in his eyes made her stomach clench in a knot of savage sexual tension. His gaze burned hot, and there was nothing gentle about the expression on his face. He wasn’t looking at her as if she was a friend. In fact, she didn’t recognize this look at all. There was something in those brilliant blue eyes she’d never seen before, something that made her reach out her hand.

      He pulled her to her feet and hard against him. She felt the thick ridge of his erection pressed against her, and then he was kissing her, and it was hot and crazy and nothing like the night before when he’d been so tender with her, so careful. This time his kiss was greedy, demanding, deeply erotic and unrestrained. He cupped her face in his hands, eased his mouth away from hers as if it was the hardest thing he’d ever done. “I’m afraid of hurting you.” His voice was raw. “I’m so fucking afraid of hurting you.”

      “No. You won’t. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” The force of the excitement barreled into her, and she clutched at his shoulders, feeling the swell of male muscle through the fabric of his shirt. There was a vicious tightening low in her stomach, a rush of desire that turned her legs into useless objects, but it didn’t matter because he lifted her and carried her to the bed, and any last reservations were blown away by the chemistry between them. She felt the warmth of his hands on her bare thighs, the brush of denim against her skin, and then he was kissing her again—first her mouth, then her neck. He sat her on the edge of the bed and knelt on the floor in front of her. The light from the lamp spilled onto his hair, glossy and dark. There was a look in his eyes that made her catch her breath, and she lifted her hands to unhook the bra, but he caught her hands in his and dragged them down to her sides.

      “No way.” He pressed his mouth to the pulse at the base of her throat. She closed her eyes, felt the touch of his lips and tongue as he moved down her body, exploring. The flimsy, transparent bra offered no protection at all from his skilled assault, and as the tip of her breast was drawn into the wet heat of his mouth, teased by the relentless flick of his tongue, she gave a little moan, unable to hold it back, unable to hold anything back.

      “Tyler—” She tugged at his shoulder but he ignored her and moved lower, pushing her back on the bed with the flat of his hand. He pushed her legs apart, and she gave a gasp, squirming against the strength of his hands. “What are you doing?”

      “I’m moving forward, like you suggested.” He spread her thighs so that she lay in front of him exposed, vulnerable, the delicate wisp of fabric more promise than protection.

      His fingers slid along the edge of the silk, and she raised her hips, squirming against the sheets, trying desperately to relieve the maddening ache building