Christmas Seduction (The Bachelor Pact Book 4)

by Jessica Lemmon

  What the hell? Had he summoned her with his mind? And what was she doing attached to Casey, of all people? Especially now that the bigger man had cemented himself into the role of Tate’s nemesis.

  How had Claire and Casey ended up in the same room together let alone found anything in common once they were there?

  It was definitely his ex-fiancée, though. There was no mistaking her slightly upturned nose and the rigid way she held her shoulders. As if she felt eyes on her, she turned to face Tate fully, giving him a demure finger wave before standing on tiptoes to whisper into Casey’s ear.

  Casey murmured something to her, his coal black eyes on Tate. And then they parted, Claire heading unmistakably in Tate’s direction.

  Son of a bitch.

  Twenty-One

  Tate, with no other choice than to acknowledge Claire, crossed the distance to meet her halfway. Casey continued staring, but he wasn’t Tate’s problem tonight, or ever after Tate ended this deal.

  “Hi, Tate.” Claire stood before him, poised, wearing a no-nonsense black dress. No glitter, no shine, no light. Nothing like Hayden. The only sparkles on Claire were coming from the ring on her—

  What the hell?

  “Is that...” He hadn’t meant to react, but there was no ignoring the giant diamond ring...on her left hand. She’d returned his engagement ring and, then what, run out to get engaged? To Casey?

  She glanced down at her finger, almost like she’d forgotten the ring was there. “Oh, yes. I’m engaged.”

  “To Casey Huxley?”

  “What? No. God, no. We’re business partners, Casey and I. He invited me as his plus-one to introduce me around. We’re not engaged. I’m engaged to...someone else.”

  That was a lot to ingest. Tate didn’t know what to ask about first. He’d offered to introduce Claire around plenty when they’d dated, but she never would come with him anywhere. He’d start there.

  “You hate Spright Island.”

  “As a residence, yes. As a business opportunity, no.”

  “Since when are you interested in land development?”

  “Guess you rubbed off on me.” She tipped her head. “It’s my new side gig.”

  Tate’s livelihood—no, life’s purpose—was Claire’s side gig? He was certain anger was turning his face a deep shade of pink.

  “Are you getting back at me for something?” It was the only explanation that made sense. That or he was having his own private Twilight Zone moment.

  “Always about you, isn’t it Tate?” She rolled her eyes. “You’re not the only one who knows what people want.”

  He had to let out a dry laugh at that. “And you do?”

  “Casey and I do. People want wide open spaces. Room for lawns and yards. Fences.”

  “Suburbia.” Tate’s lip curled.

  “People want lawns to mow, Tate.”

  The neighborhoods at SWC were designed to look as if they were tucked into the trees. There were no “lawns.” Each plot fostered native vegetation—low growing plants interspersed with rocks and mulch. “I’d never compromise SWC’s unique design. You know that. After our last meeting, Casey sure as hell knows that.”

  “People don’t want to be buried in the woods.”

  “What the hell would you know about mowing a lawn or the woods? Aren’t you a self-proclaimed city girl?”

  “I like my space.”

  “No kidding.” She’d taken plenty of it when it came to him. “You made it clear you didn’t want to be married,” he said through clenched teeth. Hayden hadn’t noticed him missing yet. Maybe he could get her out of here before she laid eyes on Claire. He didn’t want Hayden’s evening to be ruined, too.

  “Your family...confusion wasn’t what I signed up for.” Tate opened his mouth to say it wasn’t what he’d signed up for, either, but before he could, Claire added, “I saw you with her earlier. Your date. She’s—”

  “Amazing,” he interrupted, unwilling to let his ex-fiancée fill in the adjective. “Amazing is the word you’re looking for, and even if it isn’t, you can spare me your opinion.”

  His voice was hollow.

  Like his chest.

  Running into Claire had stolen the oxygen from his lungs and robbed him of reason. Probably there were some unexamined emotions revolving around their breakup he hadn’t dealt with, but when would he have had the time?

  Between winter holidays, and recovering from being in a couple, to trying to reacquaint himself with his brother and then Hayden... There hadn’t been time to process much of anything. His head felt like a knotted ball of Christmas lights.

  “Did you meet him—” Tate gestured to her engagement ring “—before or after ending it with me?”

  Her mouth opened, then closed, but she didn’t answer. At least she had the decency not to lie to him.

  “Jesus, Claire.”

  “Don’t judge me.”

  He took a deep breath and willed himself to stay calm. The last thing he needed was to make a scene and have this unfortunate run-in with his ex go down in the annals of Spright Wellness Community history.

  “When you know you know.” She offered a shrug.

  More platitudes.

  “Listen, I don’t want to fight.” She held up a hand, calling a stop to the conversation he should’ve called quits to first. “I came over to say hello, and I wanted to come clean about my involvement in the new project. Personally, and before someone else told you.”

  “How magnanimous of you.”

  Her expression was sharp, unfriendly. “I’ll keep my distance for the rest of the party. Casey’s not interested in talking business tonight, anyway.”

  “What business? Casey’s fired. Especially if you’re involved in the design.” So much for being the better person, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d been ready to throw Casey off his island after that last meeting, but learning of Claire’s involvement had sealed the other man’s fate.

  “Don’t make threats. He won’t refund your very large deposit, some of which was my seed money.”

  “Keep it,” he grated, hating that he’d unknowingly accepted money from Claire. Hating that he’d thought Casey might eventually come around to Tate’s way of thinking.

  With a shake of her blond head, she started back to the party.

  “Who’s the lucky guy?” he called after her.

  “You don’t know him.” She blew him a kiss on her way out.

  Thank God for small favors.

  * * *

  A blur of black caught Hayden’s attention as she was resting her empty glass on a nearby tray. Tate’s shoulders were beneath his ears, his fists balled at his sides.

  He looked furious. Until she caught his eye and then he smiled, though it was a touch disingenuous.

  “There you are.” A few beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead.

  “What happened to you?” She turned her head in the direction he’d come from but he pulled her close, one hand pressing her lower back, his other hand cradling her jaw. He gave her a lengthy kiss and she wobbled from the force of it, practically melting into him. Tate was an exceptional kisser.

  “Wow, thank you,” she said when he pulled away. He brushed her cheek with his thumb. “Was it that Neanderthal, Casey?”

  He gave her a jerky nod.

  “What did he do?” She searched the party, having half a mind to walk over to the idiot and give him a piece of her mind.

  “He left.” Tate turned Hayden’s chin to face him. “Can we get out of here?”

  She understood he was angry and processing an obviously loaded conversation, but... “Before midnight? I wanted to stay for the countdown.”

  She’d planned for a kiss at midnight under the chandelier in her beautiful dress. She’d planned on telling him she loved him.

  “
It’s a lot to ask, I know.” His frown faded, his lips softening some. “I have something better to do tonight.”

  Anticipation like warm honey trickled down her spine.

  “You.” He nuzzled her nose, charm dialed to eleven. “Ever since I saw you wearing that dress, I’ve been preoccupied with the idea of taking you out of it.” His voice was a low murmur of appreciation, the flattery gaining him a lot of ground. She’d never been able to resist him when he couldn’t resist her.

  “Champagne at midnight here is special, but I have champagne at my house.” He leaned close, his warm breath tickling her ear, his voice wickedly sexy. “When the clock strikes midnight, I’ll drench you in champagne and kiss you everywhere the bubbles touch. Come home with me, Hayden, you won’t regret it.”

  “That...is a compelling argument, Mr. Duncan,” she practically purred. Tate offering private kisses at the stroke of midnight was more tempting than champagne toasts on New Year’s, but she’d dreamed of counting down, kissing him, and offering up an I love you. “Can’t we go home after? Midnight is a little over an hour away and—”

  Blue eyes drilled into her. “It would mean the world to me if you and I could ring in the New Year alone.”

  Tonight she had very special plans for announcing how she felt about Tate, and by the look in his eyes, he had a similar announcement in mind. That was worth skipping the toast at the party. That was worth skipping a lifetime of toasts.

  “Okay.”

  “Yeah?” He looked relieved as he cast another quick, maybe even nervous glance around.

  “Yes. I’d love to go home with you.”

  His grin was heady and gorgeous, the attractive smile lines around his mouth and at the corners of his eyes in full force. She loved seeing him happy. She loved making him happy. Who cared about a silly toast when they had memories to make?

  “Shall we?” He offered his arm, his relaxed features showing no signs of the turmoil she thought she’d seen earlier. Business rarely mixed with pleasure, but she was glad he hadn’t allowed it to put a damper on the evening ahead of them. Not when he had so many delicious things in store for her.

  “We shall,” she said and then threaded her arm into his.

  Twenty-Two

  Flames in the gas fireplace bloomed to life and Tate tossed the remote onto the coffee table. Exactly how quickly he could turn her on, Hayden thought, eyeing her handsome date.

  She admired the broad set of his shoulders in the tuxedo jacket, his perfectly even bow tie. His hair, playfully falling over his forehead, and his enviably thick eyelashes shielding those gemstone eyes from view.

  She still wore her dress and shoes, the wrap covering her bare shoulders, but she’d discarded her purse on the kitchen counter.

  A golden glow came from a floor lamp, the only other illumination in the room from the flickering fire. The woods beyond the living room windows were dark and quiet, no wildlife peeking through the trees tonight.

  “You’re right. Your house is a much better venue for a New Year’s Eve party.”

  Tate approached her with the slow, intentional steps of a predator hunting its prey. “Sorry, I’m only available for private parties.”

  He lifted one of her hands and with his palm cupped her hip, moving close to rest his cheek on hers. Then he began to sway.

  “Are you dancing with me? To no music at all?” she asked, moving with him.

  He continued the steps and smoothly spun with her in a slow circle before bringing her flush with his chest. “How’s my driving?”

  “You’re doing great,” she whispered into his ear, pleased when a shake ran down his arms. It was nice to know she affected him the same way he affected her—to the marrow.

  “I owe you for leaving. It wasn’t fair of me to ask.”

  She stopped their silent dance and pulled her cheek from his. “I had to talk to a few people I don’t particularly like. I can imagine it’d be upsetting to deal with someone you loathe.”

  His eyebrows jumped. “You have no idea.”

  “As long as you reserved plenty of energy for me—” she smoothed the crease above the bridge of his nose “—then I’ll overlook you whisking me out of there.”

  A hint of challenge tightened his jaw. “Are you questioning if I’d keep my word about the champagne kisses and fireside romance?”

  “Of course not.” She feigned innocence. “I’m simply reminding you that you made promises and that there’s no room for waning energy.”

  He tilted his hips, a hardening part of his anatomy nestling gently into her belly. “Does that feel waning to you, Ms. Green?”

  She rested her top teeth on her bottom lip, going for her most demure and sex kitten–ish expression.

  Then she decided, screw demure.

  She stroked his erection over his tuxedo pants. He grunted, and she rubbed him again. “Feels positively mouthwatering to me,” she said against his lips. “But there’s only one way to truly test that theory.”

  He crushed his mouth into hers, pulling away after she was breathless.

  “Then test it,” he commanded.

  Fisting her wrap, he yanked it from her shoulders, sending chills along her back as the lacy material tickled its way down her arms. His grin was slow and sensual and enough to make her drop to her knees right then and there. He stopped her from sinking to the floor, though, his hands cupping her elbows. “Hang on.”

  On the other side of the room he opened a trunk, pulling from it a rug of faux deer pelts. He spread the blanket in front of the fireplace—large enough that if it had been a real deer, it’d have been the size of an elephant—and then threw a few pillows on top of their makeshift bed.

  “I don’t want you to be cold or uncomfortable.” He returned to her embrace.

  “Such a gentleman,” she cooed.

  “Not always.”

  “Do show me, Mr. Duncan, how ungentlemanly you can be.” She loved the take-charge part of him whenever it came out, and tonight she wanted to play.

  He reached into her hair and felt for the pins holding it back, and one by one tossed them to the floor. One, two, three... Her hair spilled from its updo, and then he swept it off her face and gathered it into a ponytail at the back of her head. Tightening his hold, he pulled her head back and lowered his lips to her neck. Teasing and suckling, he worked his way from her throat to her jaw to the sensitive skin behind her ear. “On your knees, gorgeous.”

  But when he backed away, there was a tickle of a smile on his lips and a question in his eyes, asking if she was okay with this. And since she was very much okay with him being in charge of her—heart and body—she replied, “Yes, sir,” and then did as she was told.

  * * *

  Against Tate’s chest, Hayden let out a satisfied hum, her breath coasting over his body as she snuggled against him.

  After she’d blown his mind and he’d in return happily blown hers, he discarded the condom in the nearest bathroom and grabbed a shearling throw off the couch to cover them. They’d been lying here ever since, the fire warming them—as if they’d needed any help after the amazing sex they’d had.

  “Ten point oh” were the first words out of her mouth.

  “What’s that?”

  “The score on your stellar performance.” She grinned up at him with sheer sexual satisfaction.

  He put an arm behind his head, proud. “You were keeping score?”

  “Not really, but I can’t deny you any less than perfect, considering it’s all I’ve thought about since we stopped.”

  He loved satisfying her. Loved more that she was open and forthright about complimenting him.

  After the night he’d had, the unpleasant run-ins with both Casey—the prick—and Claire, Tate hadn’t wanted to ruin Hayden’s night, too. Bringing her back to his place was the best decision he could’ve made.<
br />
  “What about me?” she asked, raising her eyebrows. “What’s my score?”

  He pretended to think about it, turning his eyes up to the ceiling. “Eleven million.” Her husky laughter drifted over him and he added, “Point eleven.”

  Her eyes were soft, dreamy.

  “Happy new year, Hayden.” He was about to apologize for missing the countdown...and forgetting his own promise of champagne, but what she said next stole the remaining oxygen from his lungs.

  “I love you, Tate.”

  He blinked, stunned to his core.

  Love.

  She loved him. That took living dangerously to an entirely new level.

  “I’ve been in love with you since London. I think.” Her nose scrunched in a cute look of consideration. “Probably sooner.”

  The throw, Hayden’s body heat and the fire were suddenly making him overly warm. He threw the blanket off himself, but she only snuggled closer.

  “It’s hard to know how to tell you’ve completely fallen for someone,” she said conversationally as sweat pricked Tate’s armpits. “I wasn’t planning on falling for you. But I did. So, here we are.”

  Here we are.

  Her tone was playful and light and questioning at the same time. For good reason. When someone told you they loved you, the expected response was to say it back. That was the deal.

  That’s how it’d been with his and Claire’s relationship. Hell, he didn’t even remember who’d said it first, only that one of them had and the other had followed suit. Tate had been the one to propose. At a fancy restaurant while wearing a suit, with a ring in a velvet box. He’d done everything by the letter, exactly the way tradition insisted he should, and she’d walked away anyway. Walked away and become someone else’s fiancée, before finding an interest in the very part of his life she’d been ambivalent about the entire time she and Tate were together.