Swept Away for Christmas

by M. J. Fredrick

  “No you don’t,” she muttered. “I could have thrown myself off the balcony in a mortified swan-dive.”

  “What about swans?” he asked as she ushered him inside. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing. You know me—used to cry at everything, remember? Cartoons, commercials, romance novels.” Getting dumped by the man I love on the middle of the beach. Little things like that. “It’s an emotional weekend with my best friend getting married. You’ve heard of happy tears, right?”

  “I helped raise two sisters. Those were not happy tears. Now tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.”

  She really didn’t mean to squawk in horrified laughter, but she couldn’t help herself. The absurdity was too rich—the guy who’d acted like she’d intentionally tried to get knocked up in order to trap him was going to convince her that Prince Charming was out there and couldn’t wait for her to have his babies?

  “Sorry,” she said when Finn scowled. “I appreciate the offer, truly, but you are the last person who… You should go. I’m fine.” That would have been so much more convincing if her voice didn’t quiver with the threat of more tears.

  Apparently giving up on the strategy of reasoning with her, he simply reached forward and pulled her into his arms, flattening her against his broad, muscular chest in a warm hug. The embrace was as familiar and comforting as the smell of her mother’s homemade pumpkin bread. But there was an undercurrent of something less soothing, too. The electric pull of memories and chemistry, buzzing through her veins.

  The memories were the problem. She’d had years to build him up in her head as The One Who Got Away, recalling through the distorted lens of time. Instead of wondering why no other man had ever left her so breathless and giddy, maybe she should be asking herself if the potent attraction between her and Finn hadn’t been exaggerated in her imagination?

  She glanced up, meeting his searching eyes. “Ever since I got here, people have been talking about old times. How do we know for sure our memories are even accurate?” If Finn were a chef in Huntsville and she met him today, would she be so powerfully drawn to him, or simply think he was a good-looking man with a nice smile? Maybe he’d simply be a guy she went out with three or four times before parting amicably. She’d ask him to share his seafood chowder recipe, then kiss him goodbye.

  Good theory. She stretched up on her tiptoes, taking advantage of his surprise. He was too startled to move when she brushed her lips against his. See? No big—

  Then his hands tightened on her shoulders, and he angled his head, deepening the kiss so swiftly and thoroughly that she went dizzy with lust. Damn. He kissed like a pagan god. Somehow her fingers had become tangled in the rough silk of his hair, her heart pounding as his mouth slanted over hers.

  She wasn’t sure which of them regained their good sense first—given her behavior this morning, the evidence pointed to him—but they finally parted, panting for breath.

  He spoke first. “Well. That was…unexpected.”

  So much for her hypothesis that she’d embellished their physical connection in her mind.

  She scooted back before she gave in to the impulse to reach for him again. “I don’t know how to explain why I did that in a way that doesn’t sound either insane or insulting. I’m so sorry. We agreed to be friends, then I do that. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable around me—”

  “Only in the good way.” He darted a fleeting glance at the front of his shorts, and her cheeks heated.

  What the hell had she been thinking? It wasn’t fair to drag Finn into her irrational breakdown. “Kissing you was wrong.”

  “Felt like we were doing it right to me.”

  She bit the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. Encouraging him would be a bad idea. And she’d hit her quota of those for the day. “It won’t happen again,” she said. It was supposed to be a promise.

  But judging from the sudden flash of mischief in Finn’s light eyes and the slow curve of his lips, he seemed to have interpreted it as a dare.

  ***

  A boisterous sea shanty played through overhead speakers as Shelby and her friends made their way up a gangplank to the docked pirate ship. This wouldn’t be the most traditional rehearsal dinner in the world, but the actual wedding rehearsal had been a bit unorthodox, too. It was supposed to have been a quick look at the area they’d be using and a chance for the bride and groom to practice saying their vows to avoid stumbles tomorrow. Simple and quick.

  They hadn’t counted on Charli entertaining herself, and the rest of them, by play-acting the role of a snippy wedding coordinator. “You! Your mark will be that piece of kelp. Stand exactly there.” About the time Miranda had made everyone behave, a little boy on the beach lost his grip on his dog’s leash. Both child and canine had run through the rehearsal—which they’d stopped long enough to help capture the shaggy golden retriever who’d been thoroughly enjoying the game of chase.

  Hopefully, the actual ceremony would go more smoothly.

  For this evening, plans were that they’d have dinner on a pirate cruise then return to the hotel. Miranda and Bruce hadn’t wanted raucous bachelor and bachelorette parties that left people tired and hung-over tomorrow. So tonight, Finn, Jake, Nate and Bruce would be playing poker in Finn’s room, where the groom was bunking on the extra bed; the women were having a slumber party in Miranda’s suite. The happy couple wouldn’t see each other again until the actual wedding ceremony.

  Shelby just hoped the slumber party didn’t degenerate into Charli trying to give everyone sexual advice. There had been an awkward moment in the spa’s tranquil waiting area when Shelby commented she hadn’t had a massage in over a year, and Charli had scolded her for not pampering herself more.

  “You’ve seemed tense since I got here. If you need to let off some steam, Amy told me Jake’s been making eyes at you. Speaking from experience, I can vouch that he—”

  “Ew!” Miranda had shot to her feet, looking as if she might bolt from the day-spa wearing nothing but the luxurious guest robe. “No traumatizing the bride, you nympho. I do not want to hear about your dirty deeds with my brother.”

  “Ditto,” Amy had echoed, looking a little green at the idea of her cousin having sex.

  Charli had apologized and promised to behave herself, but how long could she last on an adults-only cruise where rum flowed freely and people would be making jokes about chests and booty all night?

  Frankly, Shelby had never really been the kind of person to get naked and intimate with someone just to “let off steam.” Naturally modest and the only daughter of an ex-soldier who owned guns, she’d never even considered having sex when she’d been in high school. And after waiting until she was twenty-one for her first time, sex had never been casual to her. She needed it to mean something.

  “Ahoy, and welcome aboard the Sea Jewel me hearties!” A man who looked like the blond, blue-eyed version of Jack Sparrow hailed them as they stepped onto the ship. “Tonight we eat, drink and—luck be with us—plunder!”

  The banquet tours were cleverly divided into two cruises each night. One boat was family-friendly and had taken off for an island that afternoon, where kids got their faces painted and explored “ruins.” The Sea Jewel, which was the more expensive fare, had a full bar and was open only to guests over twenty-one. They would attack the other crew during their return trip, and the after dinner show was supposed to be a spectacle including sword fights, rope tricks and special effects cannon fire.

  A shirtless pirate distributing welcome cocktails smirked at Amy. “‘Tis considered bad luck to have wenches on board, but in your case, lass, I’m glad the cap’n made an exception.”

  Given Amy’s happy sigh as the handsome crewman walked away, Shelby suspected the young woman was once more making plans to move to Alabama.

  Charli sniffed her drink. “What do you suppose is in these?”

  “Rum, rum and more rum,” laughed a passing pirate. “Drink slowly if ye be not used to the spirits.�
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  It was tasty, whatever it was. Shelby detected some fruit juices, but it wasn’t as overpoweringly sweet as mixed drinks could be. Nor did it burn her throat raw like a drink that was half alcohol. Still, the pleasant warmth that spread through her midsection alerted her that there was plenty of hidden kick.

  There were probably forty or fifty diners on board, and the captain informed them there were plenty of tables below deck. Dinner would be in an hour, but for now he invited them to enjoy the ship’s launch and the dark magic of the night.

  At one end of the deck, a burly pirate with tattoos on his bald head invited male guests to arm-wrestle him. A live band was playing music and the shirtless pirate who’d flirted with Amy tried to recruit people in the crowd to do a jig with him. Amy and Charli joined in immediately. Others slowly formed a line, picking up steps as they repeated. Riverdance meets Treasure Island. The idea made Shelby giggle loudly, but it turned into a hiccup.

  “Anyone want another round of pirate punch?” Miranda asked, scanning the deck for one of the circulating waiters.

  “You finished yours already?” Shelby asked.

  Her friend eyed the cup in Shelby’s hand. “So did you.”

  Huh. “Maybe I should switch to ice water.”

  “I could go to the bar and get you a glass,” Jake offered.

  She bit her lip, no longer able to deny that the guy she’d always thought of as an honorary big brother was showing some interest in her. “Thanks, but I’ll do it. I’d like the chance to look around for a minute, anyway.” She made the rejection as painless as possible, but it wasn’t fair to let him think the attraction might be mutual.

  Separating herself from her knot of friends, she tried to cross the deck without letting the rolling motion of the waves below affect her.

  “Steady there.” Suddenly Finn’s voice was at her side, his hand on the small of her back as she wobbled.

  She wasn’t surprised that he’d followed her. In fact, she realized that, on some level, she’d known he would. She just couldn’t decide how she felt about it.

  “You stalking me today, Finnegan?”

  “Not at all. But I needed to remind you that you and I are friends now. And friends do each other favors. As a favor to you, if Donavan tries to show you his mizzen-mast, I’ll have him tossed into the drink.”

  She responded with a peal of laughter, recalling that mere days ago, Miranda had offered to drown Finn on her behalf and make it look like an accident. “I have the sweetest friends.”

  The mischief in his expression faded as he studied her. “What you have is the sweetest smile.” He raised his hand, tracing her bottom lip with his thumb. The delicate touch shouldn’t have been enough to turn her on, but need shuddered through her. It took every ounce of her willpower not to nip the pad of his thumb with her teeth or draw it between her lips.

  The evil idea Charli had planted in her head at the spa began to bloom. Shelby knew she couldn’t have sex without it meaning something to her, but…what if it meant goodbye? People did that, didn’t they—had one last fling with someone as a form of closure? A good memory to take with them once a relationship was finally over?

  Oh, bad idea, Shel.

  An A-plus attempt at rationalizing, but bad idea all the same.

  “I’d love to know what you’re thinking right now,” Finn said, his voice a raspy caress all the way up her spine.

  She took a step backward. “I don’t think I should tell you.” Her effort to stand firm made the words louder than she’d intended.

  A bearded swashbuckler strolling by turned to wink at her. “Didn’t anyone tell you, love? The key to the pirate life is doing what one shouldn’t.”

  Finn grinned down at her, cocking one eyebrow in rakish challenge. “Yo ho ho.”

  Chapter Eight

  For the rest of the pirate cruise, Shelby did an admirable job avoiding Finn. Or, at least, she avoided being alone with him. During dinner, she sat between Amy and Charli. During the fun skirmish between the two ships, she stood so close to Miranda that Bruce was probably jealous. And when they all rode back to the hotel, she made sure she was not in Finn’s car.

  Through it all, he watched her with knowing amusement in his eyes, as if he knew she didn’t trust herself.

  Within five minutes of arriving at Miranda’s suite, all Shelby’s hard work in avoidance was washed down the drain.

  “Bruce forgot to take the rings!” her friend informed her, a slight edge in her voice—as if she was afraid this was the first in a series of things that would go wrong.

  “Miranda, the wedding’s not for another—” She consulted her phone to check the time. “—sixteen hours.”

  “I know, but he was supposed to take them to Finn, who’s supposed to have them for the ceremony. Tomorrow, I’ll be such a nervous wreck that I might forget. Go run these to the guys’ room, would you?”

  It was a teeny, tiny request, in the scheme of things—and Shelby was the maid of honor. Still, where the hell was Charli? She could have done it. But she suspected that Charli and Nate were delayed in their room. She’d seen the looks they were giving each other in the car.

  Besides, what did she really think was going to happen—Finn would ravish her in front of Bruce and Jake? The awareness that had been crackling between her and Finn all night like electricity was making her paranoid.

  At least, that’s what she told herself as she knocked on the door of Finn’s room, taking deep, measured breaths and trying to forcibly decelerate her heartbeat.

  Finn looked startled to see her, but his surprise quickly gave way to male satisfaction. “Come on in.”

  There wasn’t really any need, but if she tossed the box at him and fled, she’d feel like a coward. So she followed him inside, stopping dead at the sight of a vegetable platter unlike she’d ever seen.

  “I thought poker games had chips and pretzels.”

  He sniffed. “Not when the game is being hosted by a celebrated chef. You like it? Christmas Tree Crudites.”

  Green vegetables had been arranged on a platter in an inverted cone, “decorated” with cherry tomatoes and carrots. She had no idea how he made it all stay in place, but it was topped with a star cut from yellow pepper.

  “That is amazing.”

  “Nah, that’s just raw veggies. What’s amazing is the dip I’ve got in the fridge. Whipped it up this morning after a quick run to the market, and it’s one of my best batches, if I do say so myself. But I doubt you came by to talk about snacks.” He stepped close, invading her space in a not unpleasant way. Her nerve-endings tingled. “Couldn’t stay away from me, huh?”

  “Where are the guys?” she asked, suddenly excruciatingly conscious that they were alone.

  “Haven’t seen Nate yet. Bruce and Jake just left to fill the cooler with ice. I’m surprised you didn’t see them in the hall.”

  “Oh. Well, Bruce forgot to bring the rings, and you need them for tomorrow. So…” She thrust the box at him. “Here.”

  Instead of simply taking it from her, he curved his fingers around her hand. “Thanks.” He stepped closer. “Did you have fun tonight?”

  “Sure. Loads. Who doesn’t love pirates, right?” She knew she was babbling but couldn’t help herself. It was like she was twenty all over again and he was about to kiss her for the first time. She’d known it was coming—had desperately wanted it—but the anticipation had been nerve-wracking.

  “I think I’m a pirate at heart,” he confided. “All that talk of pillage and taking what you want? It really resonated with me. And you know what I want?”

  God, yes. She opened her mouth to say something, but he didn’t give her the opportunity.

  The kiss was gentle at first, lazy, as if they had all the time in the world. He traced the seam of her lips, and she parted them automatically. When her tongue met his, though, he groaned, tightening his hold on her and kissing her hungrily. He descended from her mouth to the side of her neck, nibbling and teasing down
to the sensitive, vulnerable hollow of her throat. Her breasts tightened, their tips hard and achy, and she shifted restlessly in his arms, wanting more. She wanted his hands on her, wanted to strip their clothes off and—

  Earth to Shelby! She had no idea whether Bruce had a key to the room, but she did not want to be found naked in the middle of Finn’s hotel suite.

  She was trembling slightly as she pulled away. “I h-have to go.”

  He released her, but his gaze was every bit as intense as his kisses had been. “I feel like this is where I should serenade you with ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside.’”

  “In the hall? I don’t think so. For that matter, not even outside. When we got back, the time and temperature reading over the front desk said sixty-nine.”

  His eyes glinted devilishly, and she held up her hands as if to ward him off.

  “Whatever juvenile joke you’re about to make, don’t.”

  That made him laugh. “You know me so well.”

  His statement wasn’t entirely untrue. She’d been surprised at how often during the last forty-eight hours she’d known what he was about to say right before he said it. She’d known he would walk away from the group and follow her on the pirate ship. And the second she’d realized they were unchaperoned in this room, she’d known he would kiss her.

  In some moments, it was as if they’d never spent a day apart. A seductive illusion.

  “I have to go,” she repeated. “See you tomorrow.”

  “I’ll be counting the hours,” he said lightly.

  The words were flippant, a joke. But the heat banked in his steady gaze was not.

  ***

  It was a beautiful day for a wedding. Even after a sleepless, cranky night, Shelby couldn’t help appreciating the morning sunshine and good cheer around her. She’d expected that Miranda would be the one who had trouble falling asleep, but her best friend had been happily snoring by midnight.

  And why not? Shelby asked herself as the four women stepped into the Permanent Wave salon. Miranda’s about to marry a wonderful, reliable man who’s never given her a single reason to question his devotion to her. Bruce wasn’t the type to make a woman toss and turn with worry.