White-Hot Christmas

by Serenity Woods

  As they approached the cafe, Jake asked her what she wanted to eat. She felt a wave of tiredness from the jet lag, and just requested a lemonade and an ice lolly, desperate for something cool. She took the opportunity to visit the ladies’, splashing water on her face, hoping to perk herself up.

  On her way back to the entrance, she heard Jake and Neon at the counter, talking. She paused in the passageway at the mention of her name.

  “So, what do you think of Merle?” Jake said.

  “She’s gorgeous.” Neon’s compliment took her by surprise. “But I don’t think she likes me much. Fair enough. I guess you were right—I’m not the sort of guy a university lecturer would find attractive.”

  She closed her eyes, cringing as she thought of how she’d put him down. His next words, however, made her eyes fly open.

  “I can see what you meant about her, by the way. She’s so British and puritanical it’s like she’s stepped straight out of the English Civil War.”

  “What did I tell you?” Jake laughed.

  Merle’s cheeks flamed. Puritanical? How dare he make such a judgement about her when he didn’t even know her?

  Then she thought about what she’d said to him, about being surprised he’d heard of Shakespeare. She’d insulted him. He was right—she was reserved, aloof and snobbish. She completely deserved his comment.

  But deep down, she wasn’t a prude, and she wasn’t cold. She walked back through the cafe, chewing her lip. She longed to throw off the frosty British image she obviously portrayed. How could she show Neon a passionate, sexy woman lay beneath her cool exterior?

  Exiting the cafe, she saw he’d chosen a chair to one side of the group, looking out across the sea, and she took a seat opposite him. At that moment his mobile started ringing. Pulling the phone from his shorts pocket, he flipped it open. He looked at the number and hesitated. Sighing, he pressed the answer button, held the phone to his ear, stood up and walked a short distance away.

  Merle sipped her lemonade. He glanced over at Jake, who mouthed, “Ella?” Neon nodded and rolled his eyes.

  Bree leaned closer to Jake and whispered, “I saw her a couple of days ago. She’s gutted he broke up with her. I think she thought she’d got her claws into him. I didn’t like to say she shouldn’t have discussed the colour card she wanted for the invitations before they’d even been together three weeks.”

  Merle studied him, playing with her straw. So he was wary about being tied down. Well, who wasn’t? She too had backed off when Simon had started murmuring about engagement rings to her, and that was after six months of dating, not three weeks.

  Neon tucked his left hand into his pocket, and his elbows were tight against his chest. His whole stance showed his irritation.

  When he spoke, however, his voice was gentle and polite. “I know. I’m sorry.” He went quiet again, listening to the woman on the other end. At one point he held the phone away from his ear, wincing. Merle could hear Ella screeching at him. She stared, shocked. What on earth had possessed her to react in such a way? No wonder the guy was anti-commitment if his ex-girlfriends treated him like this.

  Still, he didn’t raise his voice. Merle heard him speak gently but firmly for a while, sighing occasionally before saying goodbye, flipping the phone shut. He paused for a moment before turning around. Then he sat, lowered his sunglasses and looked out to sea. Merle narrowed her eyes. He needed cheering up. What could she do to help?

  Neon mused on his conversation with Ella, sliding down in his seat, his arms crossed. He’d never promised her anything, but she’d still demanded more than he could—or wanted to—give. What was it with women? It was enough to make a man want to turn gay. He glanced across at Merle and watched as she crossed her long legs, raising her dress a little to let the sun get to them. Okay, maybe not. But at that moment, he didn’t think he ever wanted to date again. Sex, yes. Dating, no. Shame one rarely came without the other, unless you counted paying for it, and he wasn’t a big fan of that.

  He watched the English girl from behind his dark glasses, turning his head so it looked as if he were staring out to sea. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about her. Her sharp retort on his literary knowledge had stung. She’d thought him ignorant and illiterate because of the way he looked and the job he did, although she had apologised afterward, even if it was in a roundabout way. Obviously her prejudice was her problem, but still… She’d made a judgement about him with no solid foundation.

  He sipped his beer, phasing in and out of the conversation, wondering if Ella was still crying or if it had just been put on to make him feel guilty. He didn’t miss her. He knew it was cruel, but she’d been a stopgap for him, a warm body when he’d been lonely. He’d never really felt anything deep for her. Hell, he’d hardly had time for his feelings to develop. He wasn’t proud of hurting her, especially when he knew she’d been crazy about him, but he couldn’t change the way he felt.

  He focussed on Merle again. It was a shame she was so haughty, because if he thought about her in a purely physical way, she was very enticing. Long, long legs, curvy body. Beautiful bouncy blonde hair with a hint of red—strawberry blonde, didn’t they call it? Smooth skin, with a scattering of freckles. He usually favoured athletic women with a healthy tan and tight, toned bodies, and Merle didn’t fit that category—she probably hadn’t seen a surfboard in real life before, let alone stood on one. But her womanly figure and pale skin were enticing, and with her floppy hat and sundress she looked elegant, refined. Not too refined, though. He could imagine running his suntanned hand up her smooth white thigh and then farther up her body, cupping her heavy white breast. Hmm. Better not go too far down that road or everyone would become aware of his rising interest.

  At that moment, however, his attention was drawn to the way she’d started eating her ice lolly. She’d unwrapped the frozen ice on a stick and was busy catching the drops with her tongue where it had started to melt. She ran her tongue very slowly up the long length of the lolly—which was amusingly phallic shaped, or was it his imagination?—from the base to the top, which she then covered with her mouth. He stared. She listened to Bree talk, unaware of the suggestiveness of her actions, and did it again, turning the lolly around and licking the base with her pink tongue, then brushing the cold pole all the way up. Against his will, blood rushed to his groin.

  He lifted his sunglasses onto the top of his head for a better look, wondering if he’d imagined it. Did she know how erotic she looked? Nobody else seemed conscious of it. He watched, intrigued, holding his breath, as she sucked with her beautiful soft lips at the base, then ran her tongue up it a third time, right to the top. She covered the tip with her mouth, sucking gently. He nearly groaned out loud. She did it again and again, and each time he felt himself harden a little more until he knew if she looked at his thin shorts, she would be in no doubt of his arousal.

  She circled her tongue around the tip several times before plunging the lolly between her lips again. By this time, he was incapable of speech and could only stare as, to his shock, she slid the ice lolly into her mouth, taking the whole length of it in, almost to the stick. It was such a wanton, erotic display, he nearly swore out loud.

  At that moment, she looked over at him. He stared, waiting for her to grow embarrassed and look away or, even worse, glare at him. She didn’t, though, and he suddenly realised she knew he had been watching her and knew exactly what she was doing.

  She pulled the lolly slowly out of her mouth, leaving her lips glistening. She licked them, watching him with a bold, enticing stare. Then, quite clearly, she swallowed.

  Neon closed his eyes. He tipped his head back until it met the wall with a thud, struggling to control the lust spiralling through him. Jeez, she’d nearly made him come in his shorts, little minx. It took a few moments of deep breathing to calm himself. When he felt in control again, he opened his eyes and looked up at the sky with a sigh, then glanced over to see Jake watching him, puzzled. A wry smile on his lips, he fina
lly looked back at Merle. She laughed and winked at him.

  “Wicked girl,” he mouthed, unable to stop himself smiling.

  She shrugged and continued to lick the lolly, albeit in a less suggestive manner, but her eyes remained on him, lit with mischief. There was more to this prim British chick than met the eye.

  Merle had enjoyed teasing him. And the sight of him closing his eyes and tipping his head back was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She could imagine that was how he’d look when he came, the thought making her dizzy as she pictured him on top of her, arching into her.

  Oh for the love of… Bree was to blame for this. Her sister had turned her into a nymphomaniac.

  Not that she could imagine any woman thinking about anything else when they looked at Neon. He was sex on a stick, built for lovemaking, pure and simple.

  The waitress had brought out the food and everyone tucked in, hungry after a morning spent surfing and playing. Merle nibbled on a chunky fry, smiling as she saw Neon take bite after bite out of a huge sandwich. Gosh, the man could eat! But then look at his size—a Rav 4x4 needed more fuel than a Mini, didn’t it?

  She looked across at Bree, who held up a hand, fingers spreading, mouthing the word “Fifty”. Merle shot her a glare but couldn’t stop herself smiling. The idea of seducing Neon into a one-night stand was very, very tempting.

  But did she have the courage to do it?

  Chapter Three

  They spent the afternoon on the beach, and Merle passed a pleasant few hours lazing under the shade of a beach umbrella, catching up with Bree, while the men surfed and played Frisbee and other sports on the sand as the sun dipped lower, the girls occasionally joining in or splashing in the shallows.

  It was odd to think this wasn’t a holiday for the majority of the group. They actually lived like this. The memory of the cold, wet weather she had left behind made her shudder. She couldn’t imagine being exposed to this sort of life day in, day out. Would it get dull after a while? There would have been a time when she thought it would, as she loved her job. Lately, however, work had become a slog, and coping with the demanding needs of her mother had begun to weigh heavily on her shoulders. The thought of sacrificing university life to spend every weekend lying on the beach in the sun seemed very attractive.

  “So?” Bree asked out of the blue.

  “So what?” Merle had thought her sister was asleep as she hadn’t spoken for a while. The younger girl looked over, shading her eyes with her arm.

  “Have you thought any more about taking me up on my bet?”

  “Are you still going on about that?”

  “I saw the way you looked at him.” Bree’s eyes sparkled. “Am I in danger of losing my first fifty bucks?”

  Merle sighed. “I doubt it. Do you really think I’m brave enough to suggest a one-night stand to someone like Neon?”

  Bree smile turned into a curious frown. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, look at him, and look at me. Mr. Surf Dude and Miss Prim and Proper? How likely would he be to say yes? Being turned down would be a horrific embarrassment.”

  “Turned down?” Bree started laughing again. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Merle, I wouldn’t have suggested him if I didn’t think he’d jump you at the first opportunity. I guarantee you, there’s no way he’d turn you down.”

  Merle rolled her eyes. “Of course not, I’m breathing.”

  Bree smiled. “Actually he doesn’t sleep with everything going. He can afford to be picky. And I’m telling you—you’re gorgeous enough to catch his eye. I’ve seen the way he looks at you too, and you’ve only been here half a day.”

  Merle grew hot, or was it the unrelenting sun on her cheeks? “He told Jake I was puritanical.”

  “Well, you are.” Bree grinned. “But even so, I’ve seen him staring at you. There’s no way he’s not interested in getting you into bed.” She shrugged. “Anyway, he’s a nice guy. He wouldn’t hurt your feelings, even if he didn’t fancy you. But I’m telling you, he does.” She winked at Merle. “So, are we on?”

  Merle glanced across at where the guys were now throwing a rugby ball to one another, seemingly unable to sit still for more than five minutes. She watched as Neon play-tackled one of the other guys to the ground. He was like essence of man. How on earth could Bree think she would have the courage to tell him she was up for a one-night stand? She couldn’t think how she’d even broach the topic, let alone go through with the act itself.

  And yet… She felt a strange stirring in her stomach at the thought of walking up to this guy—this stranger, when she didn’t even know his second name—and kissing him, letting him touch her in places she hadn’t been touched for what seemed like an eternity.

  It wasn’t something English Merle would ever consider doing. But wasn’t that the point? Here, thirteen thousand nautical miles away, she could be anyone she wanted. Kiwi Merle could have a completely different personality from what she normally had. Wasn’t that an exciting thought?

  She wasn’t usually impetuous. But maybe Kiwi Merle was. Her heart thumped. “All right, it’s a deal.”

  Bree stared at the hand Merle held out. She reached out and shook it, a smile creeping onto her face. “I didn’t think you’d accept. Mind you, saying it’s one thing—doing it’s another.”

  “If it happens, I swear, you’ll be the first to know.”

  The group of men came over, their rugby game finished. Shirtless again, wearing only swimming shorts, Neon grabbed a bottle of water and drank two-thirds of it in one go, then poured the remainder over his head, scattering them with drops as he shook it like a dog. Merle sighed.

  “Sorry,” he said. Beads of water trailed down his broad chest, and as he ran a hand through his hair, it sprang back up, scattering further droplets over her. She hadn’t been complaining, but she didn’t know how to explain that.

  “No worries,” she said, echoing his earlier words, trying to put on the Kiwi accent.

  Neon laughed. “That was more Australian.”

  “Same thing, isn’t it?”

  He grinned at her mischievous smile. She was looking at him like she wanted to do a re-enactment of her ice lolly performance on him, and he remembered the way she’d stared at him when Jake first introduced them, her eyes like saucers. This English academic definitely had red blood running beneath the surface.

  On impulse he said, “Want to go for a walk?”

  She blinked. “Oh. Er, sure.” She glanced at her sister, who grinned, amused. Merle turned her back on her and smiled at Neon. “Maybe you can tell me what some of those plants are growing along the beach.”

  Bree snorted.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Less of the incredulousness, missy. I’m an expert on New Zealand botany, if you must know.”

  Merle let him pull her to her feet again and dusted herself. “Really?”

  “Absolutely. That’s a tree and that’s a flower—what more do you want to know?” He smiled as they laughed, and he handed Merle her wide-brimmed hat. “Don’t want you getting burned.”

  “Thanks.”

  Bree winked at her sister. “Have a nice nature trail.” She lifted her hand as if to wave at Merle, but spread her fingers as if indicating the number five. Merle frowned at her, and Bree grinned and covered her face with her hat.

  Merle stepped over Bree and scuffed sand over her before following him along the beach. Clearly they had been talking about something that embarrassed her. What was it? Something to do with him?

  The day was growing long, and some of the group had gone up to the beach house to light the barbecue for dinner. It was his favourite time of the day, the sun low on the horizon, the air humid and sultry. Merle’s skin was a light pink in spite of the fact that she’d applied lotion several times during the day. She didn’t say anything for a while as they walked, and neither did he. Their bodies seemed to be having a conversation of their own. He was v
ery aware of her pale arm next to his, the glisten of moisture in the V of her breasts, and the sexy sway of her hips.

  “I’m sorry for earlier,” she said eventually.

  “Hmm?”

  “For insulting you, about Shakespeare. I didn’t mean it. I’m not normally so rude.”

  He laughed. “No worries.” But he appreciated the apology.

  “Does this pattern mean anything?” She indicated the tattoo on his upper arm, her finger lightly tracing the black design. A shiver ran through him.

  “Well, this is a koru—a curled-up silver fern. The fern’s the symbol for New Zealand—you’ve probably seen it on the All Blacks’ national rugby team shirt, and the Silver Ferns are the national netball team. You’ll see the pattern everywhere here.”

  “Yes, I thought I’d seen it before.” She looked up at him. She had beautiful dark blue eyes, but he found them difficult to read. What was she thinking? He picked up a flat stone and skimmed it into the ocean, conscious of her watching him.

  She cleared her throat. “What are those beautiful trees with the red flowers? I’ve seen them everywhere.”

  “Pohutukawa.” He led her over to them. “We call them our Christmas trees because they always flower at this time of year. See—I do know something about plants.” He smiled and she laughed, then repeated the word perfectly. He raised his eyebrows. “That’s impressive—it usually takes people several goes to get that right.”