Christmas Down Under: Six Sexy New Zealand & Australian Christmas Romances

by Rosalind James

  “We could drive a bit farther around the coast. Get away from the holiday crowds.”

  He shrugged and joined the line of vehicles at the foot of a scrubby hill, headed toward the rocky reef ledge exposed by the low tide. The Range Rover bumped and jolted across the low rocks that made up the drivable ledge. They stopped and waited for a pickup loaded with surfboards and wetsuit-clad teenagers to edge past.

  “Those girls at the restaurant today…” She hesitated, unwilling to stir things up again, but trying to understand. “They recognized you, too—you know it’ll be all over the social networking sites by this evening. Don’t you mind?”

  “I won’t live my life in hiding.”

  The words prickled like an accusation, and she tucked herself deeper into the sun-warmed leather seat.

  “I’ve done nothing I’m ashamed of,” he added.

  He felt no remorse for brawling with Savannah Payne’s husband? No shame at fooling around with another man’s wife? No—she didn’t believe that. There must be some other explanation. Now would be the time to ask, if she could garner the courage to pry. But the words jammed her throat shut. Even the persistent jab of curiosity couldn’t blot out the knowledge that questioning his relationship with the actress would mean admitting the significance of her interest. That over the last couple of weeks she’d developed an invested interest in him.

  “The next bay has a nice swimming beach and some rock pools.”

  Nate grunted noncommittally, and they rounded another cluster of rocks, the scrubby hill changing into a steep mountain of golden sand dunes stretching to the sky. The contrast and beauty of this area still managed to send a visceral thrill of pleasure through her.

  He brought the car to a slow stop and parked. “Will this do?”

  “Yes. This is great.” She slipped off her sandals and stepped out, relishing the gritty sand beneath her toes.

  Nate found an old blanket in the back and spread it a short distance from the car. They sat and ate, throwing the odd piece of bread to a small group of jostling gulls.

  Once the last of their lunch had been dispersed to the greedy birds, Nate stood and collected their empty paper bags. “Think I’ll go for a swim.”

  He opened the Range Rover’s back door and offered her a towel. “You coming?”

  She waved it away. “Oh, no. I won’t swim. I’ll just paddle my feet to cool down.”

  He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t comment. After hauling off his shirt, he tossed it into the car and then draped the towel she’d rejected around his neck. The shorts clung low on his hips, the towel highlighting more of his toned flesh than it covered.

  Always aware of his masculinity on some level, she could usually keep the just-friends illusion around Todd and Kathy while Nate remained fully clothed. Now, her unwilling gaze was drawn to the breadth of his shoulders and the smooth ripple of muscle bracing his torso as he toed off his sandshoes.

  Lauren walked to the water’s edge, her mouth papery and pulse skittering in erratic leaps. The height of a cluster of rock pools near the shoreline concealed her from the traffic farther along the beach. Perfect if she’d been alone, but with Nate close behind her, privacy wasn’t the safest option. She inhaled great gulps of salty air, trying to wrangle her heartbeat under control. She needed to stop this silly infatuation, these school-girlish blushes every time he got within touching distance.

  Nate arrived beside her, hands on hips, his brow furrowed. “Are you still worried about those girls? Or maybe that I’m going to start calling you Sexy Lexy?”

  She shook her head, gazing at the small waves encircling her feet.

  “Why is it whenever we’re alone, you rarely smile?”

  Lauren dragged her gaze up to meet his. No hostility glittered there, just a flicker of bewildered hurt.

  Because I’m scared. She kept her lips stitched shut. I’m scared that if I let you in, if I trust you with the real me it won’t be enough—that I won’t be enough, and you’ll try to change me like he did.

  And God help her, she didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

  ***

  “That’s not true. I smile a lot,” she said.

  Nate rolled his shoulders, trying to force the tension out of his muscles. “Just not at me. You don’t have anything to fear from me, Lauren.”

  Was she still scared that he’d reach for his cellphone to contact the tabloids? He’d told her the truth earlier when he said he didn’t care who she’d been, but he hadn’t told her the whole truth. Because the whole truth was he cared about who she was now. He cared more than a guy leaving in a few short weeks should.

  She nodded, but her eyes skipped away to the horizon. Maybe he needed to take her mind off worrying.

  “When did you last do something spontaneous, something fun?”

  “I have lots of fun.” She thrust out her chin. “Why, the other day Drew and I—”

  “Without Drew. Just you, or you with another”—he paused and grinned down at her—“adult.”

  “I think you and I have different definitions of fun.”

  A sea breeze flicked hair across her face, and a strand caught in the corner of her mouth. Before rationality censored the move, his hand reached out. Like the softest wisp of combed silk, Lauren’s hair slid over his finger as he tucked the lock behind her ear.

  “Maybe not so different.”

  His hand lingered at the curve of her jaw and a tremor ran through her. Her lips parted slightly, moist with invitation. One step and he’d take her, crush his mouth to hers. He’d mold those killer curves into the shape of his body, cranking up the lust that’d driven him half mad. But make the move now, when she was still so tense he could almost see her muscles contorting?

  Not quite yet. He had a better plan.

  He swooped, gathering her into his arms before the dazed expression left her face. By the time she reacted, struggling, pushing against his chest and finally, giggling, he’d splashed knee deep into the ocean.

  “Nate! Put me down!” She squirmed and punched his shoulder.

  “Okay.”

  He made a move to drop her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck in a strangle hold. He bit back a grin. So far, the plan was working well.

  “No, no! I don’t have a bathing suit on.”

  “What about a birthday suit?” He continued to wade into deeper water.

  Instead of blushing, a belly laugh burst out of her. “Nice try. Now take me back to the beach.”

  “You know…” Another wave rose up and swept past him, and he swayed, the side of her body brushing with delicious friction against his chest. “I don’t think I will.”

  He looked down at her upturned face, the crinkle of laugh lines around her eyes as she squinted up at him. It fired off an inexplicable chain reaction in his heart to see her smile.

  She hissed out a breath as a large wave approached. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  They watched the roll of pristine blue curl in a roiling spill of white. “Now there’s a challenge I can’t resist.”

  Before she screamed, he turned his back on the breaker, and still cradling her in his arms, fell into the surf. Cool water bubbled over his skin, and an elbow jabbed into his ribs. Nate struggled to his feet, hauling a spluttering, mad-as-hell woman with him.

  While he debated the wisdom of an apology, Lauren planted both hands on his chest, and something jerked against the back of his ankle. With a shocked, “Hey!” he toppled back under the waves. Thrashing upright, he coughed what felt like a gallon of salt water from his lungs.

  “Hah!” Lauren sneered, planted in front of him triumphant and Amazonian-like. “Serves you right.”

  A sopping tee shirt hugged the heaving swell of her breasts and her shorts clung to her thighs. An ear-to-ear grin threatened to split his face in two.

  Oh, yeah. Definitely one of his better plans.

  “I spent summers at the beach with Todd and his mates, all of whom thought it good sport to pick on
his little sister.”

  “I bet you showed them, huh?” He splashed toward her, swiping water droplets from his face.

  Her eyes tapered to slits, and she adjusted her posture so her weight spread evenly over the shifting sand. “I totally did. I’ll show you, too, by putting you back under if you try to dunk me again.”

  “You got lucky. Caught me off guard.”

  Her gaze darted left to a spot behind him. Like a sucker, he took his eyes off her, his head turning a fraction. But as she lunged to trip him, he was ready. Wrapping his fingers around her wrists, he reeled her in, using his heavier weight to stop them both from falling. The impact of her body colliding with his and her breasts squishing against his chest with only a thin layer of cotton between them, set every part of his body on high alert.

  Waves eddied and rolled, buffeting them with a sensual rocking motion, pushing her hips into his rigid length. Eyes hooded, her gaze revealed what she didn’t say out loud. That neither of them controlled this game that was no longer a game.

  “Truce?” Her voice came out husky and breathless.

  “No.” His lips traced a lingering trail from her cheekbone to the corner of her mouth. “I play to win.”

  He released his grip on her wrists and cradled her jaw in his palms. This time, he didn’t kiss her gently. He offered no apology, didn’t spare her the intensity of igniting desire. There was only heat—building, flowing, combusting, overwhelming.

  He deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with confidence. He craved more. Her palms slid down his chest and around to splay against his back. She melted into him, until he couldn’t separate one heartbeat from another.

  Fisting a handful of her hair, Nate tore his mouth from hers with a groan and licked the taste of her off his lips in drugged delight. God, she was the sweetest opiate, dulling his restlessness in a pleasurable haze, twining around his heart with a grip of velvet-covered steel. He should pull back, but the incoming tide swept his willpower away.

  “So beautiful,” he whispered against her salty skin, the tip of his tongue following a path along her collarbone. His hand slid under the wet folds of her top, touching the cool flesh beneath.

  “Please.” Her nails dug into his spine.

  He marveled at the sleekness of her skin, the rapid movement of her ribcage as she gasped for breath. He wanted her. Desperately. But he intended to make love to her with the respect she deserved. Not ravish her in a semi-public place like a hormone-fuelled teenager with no sense of propriety.

  Nate peeled her hands from his waist, held them in his and kissed the back of her knuckles.

  “Nate?”

  Her dark pupils, wide enough to drown in, mirrored a combination of desire and confusion.

  “If we keep kissing like that, we’ll end up becoming a public spectacle.”

  “Oh. Right.”

  The agreement sounded wrenched from her, but maybe that was wishful thinking on his part. She stepped backward and shivered as another wave swept past, dropping her gaze to their still-linked hands. Already, her carefully constructed armor was slotting back into place, guarding her actions, keeping him at a safe distance. Only he wouldn’t let her push him away any longer.

  “Lauren.”

  She glanced up, and he stroked his thumb across her knuckles.

  “We’re not done yet. I want a rain check.”

  With one final, unreadable stare, she pulled her hands free and dove gracefully under the next wave, swimming away from him with languid strokes.

  ***

  Low moans, the scent of wildflowers, lush, warm skin beneath his roaming hands. His heart hammering, pounding, barking—

  Barking? Nate yanked the pillow off his face with a groan. Scratching noises from the garage door, then another volley of deep woofs assaulted his ears. A brief pause and the banging started again, followed by Drew’s high-pitched voice.

  “Nate. Open the door! It’s Christmas, and Santa’s been! Hurry up, Nate!”

  Dragging a hand down his jaw, which had a similar texture to a baby cactus and nothing whatsoever like his dream of Lauren’s smooth curves, Nate swung his legs off the futon.

  “All right, all right. I’m coming.”

  He cracked open an eye. Darkness. His feet were a pale blur on the floor, which meant he should still be dreaming of wildflowers and Lauren’s breasts. Hell. What time was it? He flicked on a lamp, hauled on his jeans and shirt and picked his way over to open the garage door. Drew jiggled in pajamas and slippers on the other side, his huge grin visible even in the predawn light.

  Nate glanced up at Lauren’s house, taking in the still-dark windows. “Does your mum know you’re up and about at this unholy hour?”

  Drew shook his head and tugged on his hand. “Come on, Nate!”

  He chuckled. “What’s the hurry?”

  A forlorn sigh. “Santa’s left presents under the tree, but Mummy said no presents until we’ve had breakfast, and I can’t reach the wheat biscuits.”

  “Ah.” He scraped fingers through a severe case of bed hair. “Guess I could help you out. Just let me get something.”

  Nate retraced his steps to the futon and dragged a bag out from underneath.

  Drew pointed to the colorfully wrapped object poking out. “What’s that?”

  “It’s a gift for your mum.”

  “Oh.” He arched his neck to peep into the bag. “There’s only one present.”

  Drew’s hopeful expression would’ve been funny, if it hadn’t been a painful reminder of his own childhood, spent wishing for traditions and the little luxuries that were out of the question in most countries his parents served in. He ruffled Drew’s soft hair and waited for his natural curiosity to overcome his manners. The little boy stuck his hands behind his back and kept his lips pressed together.

  He’d only meant to tease, but silence from a kid who shouldn’t think twice about asking for his share caused the combination lock guarding the vault of his heart to click one notch closer to opening.

  “I put one for you under the tree before I went to bed.”

  “You did?” A shy smile lit up his face.

  “Sure. We’re mates, aren’t we?”

  Drew nodded slowly.

  Nate extended his hand. “C’mon, then. Let’s go up before your mum discovers you’re gone and flips out.”

  ***

  The smell of bacon frying and Drew’s chatter drifting upstairs woke Lauren from a deathlike sleep.

  Drew? Cooking? She was halfway to her bedroom door before her brain kicked into gear and started reasoning. Drew couldn’t reach the cast iron skillet or the box of matches needed to light the gas element. So someone must be with him.

  She paused and cocked her head.

  A chuckle rumbled up, followed by a deep voice saying, “How many eggs do you think you can eat?”

  Nate’s presence with her son should’ve calmed her erratic heartbeat. It didn’t. They’d kept a respectful distance apart after their beach encounter, and the flurry of work before Christmas also served as a distraction. But seeing him, talking with him each evening, even sniffing his damn shower gel just to catch a whiff of his scent, drove her nuts.

  Lauren pulled on shorts and a blouse and hurried downstairs. Dawn lightened the family room through the French doors, the first rays of sunlight sparkling on Drew’s glitter-dusted and slightly lopsided tree decorations. She turned on the fairy lights and wrapped her arms around her waist, staring at the gifts beneath the branches. Sniffing the fresh, clean scent of pinesap, she blinked when the colored lights distorted to a soft blur. She wasn’t going to get weepy on this, their first real Christmas together.

  A year ago she’d ignored the holidays until Todd practically kidnapped the two of them and dragged them back to his house. Surrounded by Kathy’s sisters and their husbands and kids, Lauren, thrust into the center of bedlam, had found whānau. Family.

  “Mummy, Mummy, you’re finally up.” Drew launched himself at her legs, sighing wi
th great drama. “I’ve been making us breakfast for ages.”

  “Oh, have you? Well, it smells wonderful.”

  She brushed away the slight wetness under her eyes and allowed Drew to tow her through the archway into the kitchen.

  With his back to her, Nate flipped a bacon rasher. Once again, he’d tied her pink apron around his waist, but nothing distracted her from his broad shoulders flexing beneath a black tee shirt and a superb “I wanna take a bite outta it” butt in faded denim. Saliva pooled in her mouth, and she couldn’t just blame it on the crispy bacon.

  Heck of a sexy thing, watching a man make breakfast.

  “I thought you couldn’t cook?”

  He looked over his shoulder, and the smile curving his lips hooked her heart straight into her throat.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” he said. “Merry Christmas to you, too.”

  She stared, her tongue gluing fast to the roof of her mouth before she peeled it away and replied, “Merry Christmas.”

  “Nate knows how to cook. He made monkey-roni, remember?”

  Lauren glanced down at her son’s earnest expression. Yeah, she remembered. She remembered the tightness that constricted her chest watching helplessly as Nate took over her kitchen, strong-arming his way into her life. She remembered too the inexplicable flicker of sexual awareness that’d burgeoned into something else. Something she didn’t dare examine.

  Urging a light tone into her voice, she said, “Ah, yes. The memorable monkey-roni.”

  “I’m redeeming myself with bacon and eggs.” Nate opened the oven door and transferred the cooked bacon to a waiting platter. “Even I can cook the basics.”

  “Another skill set I was unaware of.”

  He half turned toward her, waggled his eyebrows and drawled, “Lady, I’ve got many skills you’re unaware of.”

  While she laughed and strolled into the kitchen to the flatware drawer, a shiver swept down her body, tightening her nipples, sending warmth purling through her core. She couldn’t get the image of him, the visceral memory of his rough hands caressing her skin, out of her mind.