Hot Christmas Kisses

“You’re my escape. Just a temporary indulgence.”

But Christmas has a way of changing things...

On and then off again, Matt Edwards and DJ Winston share hot sex, hotel rooms—and nothing else. But now Matt is suddenly in DJ’s real life, where she’s not sentimental about anything—not her lovers or the holidays. Just one hot kiss has them back in bed... Will Christmas magic turn their fantasy into forever?

JOSS WOOD loves books and traveling—especially to the wild places of Southern Africa and, well, anywhere. She’s a wife, a mum to two teenagers and slave to two cats. After a career in local economic development, she now writes full-time. Joss is a member of Romance Writers of America and Romance Writers of South Africa.

Also by Joss Wood

Convenient Cinderella BrideThe Nanny ProposalHis Ex’s Well-Kept SecretOne Night to ForeverThe CEO’s Nanny AffairLittle Secrets: Unexpectedly PregnantFriendship on Fire

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Hot Christmas Kisses

Joss Wood

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-07683-8

HOT CHRISTMAS KISSES

© 2018 Joss Wood

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Epilogue

Extract

About the Publisher

Prologue

Christmas, the year before

In a rural part of Devon, three thousand miles from her home in Boston, Massachusetts, DJ Winston smoothed her hands over the maroon-and-silver dress and turned to face her computer screen.

Her two best friends, twins Darby and Jules Brogan, lounged on Jules’s couch in her office back in Massachusetts, coffee cups on the table in front of them. As was their custom, they’d shortly be closing their business for the Christmas break, ending the year by treating their staff to lunch.

“Send everybody my love and tell them I hope they have a lovely minivacation.”

DJ ignored Darby rolling her eyes at DJ’s inability to wish anyone a merry Christmas. She tried, she really did, but the words always got stuck in her throat. Merry Christmas! Happy holidays! Ho, ho, ho...nope, she couldn’t do it. She could talk interest rates and contract terms, equity and cash flow, but she stuttered and stammered her way through December. The festive—hah!—season made her feel like she was eight again, alone, frightened and wondering why neither of her parents loved her.

DJ knew the twins would like to discuss her antipathy toward Christmas, but it was, like so many other subjects, off-limits.

DJ adored the twins, but she believed in keeping some distance between her and the people she loved. Distance was her safety net, her belay rope, her life vest. Distance was how she’d always protected herself. And since it had worked for her as a child and as a teen, what was the point of changing her strategy now?

Darby cocked her head to one side. “That dress looks fantastic with your dark hair and eyes, DJ.”

Jules nodded her agreement. “Vibrant colors suit you. But with your height and build, anything looks good on you, you know that.”

She didn’t, though.

While the twins saw her as attractive, she still saw herself as the gangly, dark-haired teenager who embarrassed her blond, blue-eyed mother. DJ was smart enough, Fenella reluctantly admitted, but she was too tall, too lanky, with not enough charm. So Fenella said when she was in a good mood.

DJ tried not to remember the words Fenella let fly when she was angry.

“What shoes are you wearing?” Darby asked.

“My Jimmy Choos, the ones you made me buy last week.” DJ nodded to the sexy silver shoes on the bed.

“So...” Darby drawled. “When is Matt arriving?”

DJ released an irritated sigh. “He’s not.”

“He stood you up? Nice Christmas present.” Jules was sarcasm personified.

DJ sighed. Darby and Jules didn’t understand that her and Matt Edwards’s ad hoc arrangement worked for them, as it had for the past six years. Depending on their schedules, she and Matt met for a night or a weekend. That was when DJ stepped out of her life, pushing aside numbers and profit margins, cash-flow issues and cost projections. When she was with Matt, she allowed herself the freedom to be another version of herself—fun-loving, exuberant and sensuous.

Neither she nor Matt had any expectations, and DJ was very conscious of the fact that, despite making this unusual situation last for many years, their arrangement was a temporary thing.

They had no ties to each other, nothing to bind them except for the expectation of good sex, a few laughs and a relaxing time spent in undemanding company. She didn’t need more. A partner, boyfriend or permanent lover wasn’t something she wanted for herself; after being abandoned by her father and rejected by Fenella, DJ wasn’t prepared to hand over her battered heart to another human to kick around. She was keeping possession of that fragile organ.

Spontaneous weekends spent with Matt worked well for her, but yesterday he’d blown her off, saying that he, despite it being Christmas, needed to stay in the Netherlands, to consult with a client who was in a world of hurt. Because Matt was a fantastically successful human-rights lawyer, hurt could mean his client was a political refugee ducking prison time, or a tribe of aboriginal people who’d been kicked off their ancestral land and were facing the imminent loss of their culture and way of life.

The fact that his on-and-off lover needed to escape Christmas and was horny as hell didn’t nudge the needle of his what-international-laws-did-this-violate? scale.

DJ had considered missing her friend’s wedding but that meant doing Christmas in Boston. Ugh. Attending this Christmas Eve wedding was the lesser of two evils.

Her friends on the screen were still waiting for her response. Right, they’d been discussing Matt’s nonarrival. “We have an understanding that work always comes first. He’s tied up doing something terribly important.”

What he wasn’t doing was her.

DJ pulled a face, glanced at the corner clock on her laptop screen and sighed. “I’d better slap on some makeup or else I’m going to be late for the church service.”

Darby frowned and waved at DJ’s dress. “Take that off first. You do not want to get makeup on that dress.”

Good point. Friends since kindergarten, she was superbly comfortable disrobing in front of them. Allowing them to see her messed-up inner world was what she found difficult. DJ gently pulled the dress over her head and laid it on the bed.

Jules whistled. “Push-up bra, tiny thong, heels. Edwards has no idea what he’s missing out on.”

“I agree.”

That voice.

DJ whipped her head up and looked toward the doorway. Her heart, stupid thing, did cartwheels in her chest.

Matt, a shoulder pressed to the doorframe, looked as effortlessly sexy as he always did. A tall blond with deep green eyes and a surfer’s tan, he had the face and body to advertise sun, sea and sex. He didn’t look like what he was: a brilliant international lawyer with a steel-trap mind.

The moisture in DJ’s mouth disappeared and it took all her willpower not to run to him and start removing his clothes. She desperately wanted to slide the cream linen jacket down his arms and rip apart his navy button-down shirt. The leather belt would be next, and she’d soon have the buttons of his designer jeans undone. In her hand he’d be hot and hard...

It had always been this way. Matt just had to look at her with those incredibly green eyes and she went from cool and collected to crazy in ten seconds flat. She didn’t love him—hell, she barely knew him—but, damn, she craved his mouth, his hands on all her long neglected and secret places.

Okay, try to hold it together. For God’s sake, be cool.

“I thought you couldn’t make it,” DJ said, wincing at the happy note in her voice. Yeah, opposite of cool, Winston.

She glanced at her dress lying on the bed, considered slipping it on and then shrugged. Why bother? Matt had seen everything she had, more than once.

Matt stepped into the room, walking with a grace not many big men possessed. “My client was delayed.”

Matt crossed the room to her and his hand lifted to cradle her face, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. He looked down, and she felt the heat of his gaze on the tiny triangle low on her hips and her equally frivolous bra. She was, in turn, both entranced and brutally turned on by the passion flaring in his eyes. Being wanted by this sexy man always shot a ray of enhanced sunshine through her veins.

“Nice outfit, Dylan-Jane,” Matt said when their eyes locked again, his voice extra growly.

He was the only person, apart from her mother, who’d ever called her by her full name, and on Matt’s lips it was a caress rather than a curse.

“Hi.”

The single-syllable greeting was all her tangled tongue could manage.

“Hi back.” Matt lowered his mouth to hers and as their lips touched they both hesitated, as they always did. DJ had no idea why Matt waited but she enjoyed stretching out the moment, ramping up the anticipation. Yes, she was desperate for his touch, but she also wanted to make the moment last. The first kiss, after so long apart, was always exceptional.

Finally, Matt’s clever mouth touched hers and it was, as always, sweet and sexy—a little rediscovery and a whole bunch of familiarity. The kisses they’d exchange later would be out of control, like a wildfire, but this one was tender and, in its way, as soul-deep sexy as what would come later.

Talking about later...

It took everything DJ had to pull her mouth off his, to drop her hands from that wide, warm chest. “If we don’t get dressed we’re going to be late for the wedding.”

“Yeah, you have about fifteen minutes to get out of that room to beat the bride to the church.”

DJ yelped at Darby’s dry voice. DJ took a step to the side to look past Matt’s arm to the computer screen. Her friends were still there, both looking worried. DJ was thankful that they’d only had a view of Matt’s broad back and truly excellent butt during that kiss.

“Hey, Matt,” Darby said.

Matt pinched the bridge of his nose, shook his head and rolled his eyes at DJ. With a rueful smile he turned around and looked at the screen. “Ladies.”

“Well done for arriving in the nick of time,” Jules said, her voice tart.

Matt just raised one sandy, arrogant eyebrow. Then he stepped up to the desk, looked down at the screen and smiled. “’Bye, ladies.” He closed the lid to the laptop and turned back to face DJ.

“I’ve missed you.”

DJ tipped back her head to look into his eyes, her cynical side wondering if he said that as a way to talk her into bed. But the look on his face was sincere, his eyes radiating honesty. Besides, Matt didn’t use coercion. She was either fully on board or he backed off; Matt did not whine or beg or force.

Besides, they both knew she was going to slide into bed with him the moment she saw him standing in the doorway. She was putty in his hands.

“You, half-naked in sexy lingerie, is my early Christmas present.” Matt lifted a curl off her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. His mouth curled up into a deprecating half smile. “But I’m embarrassed to tell you that I hightailed it out of my office to make my flight and I’ve been rushing ever since. I didn’t want to be late, so I didn’t stop to buy condoms. You wouldn’t happen to have any, would you?”

DJ shook her head. Well, crap. Matt never, ever made love to her without one.

“So, damn. No condoms. Maybe we should go to the church and pick this up later.”

Oh, hell, no.

“Or we could just carry on...” DJ ran her finger down his hard erection before fumbling with the snap on his pants.

Matt groaned. “Dylan-Jane, oral isn’t enough. I need to be inside you. I’ll go pick up some condoms and come back. We’ll miss the service, but we could still make the reception.”

Hearing his rough, growly, frustrated voice, DJ melted. “I’m on the pill, Matt. I’m clean, there hasn’t been anyone since we last hooked up, and if you can tell me you are...”

Matt nodded. “Yeah, I am.” He kissed her lips before pulling back again. “Can I trust you with this, Dylan-Jane? There won’t be any unexpected surprises?”

If he knew her better, he wouldn’t have to ask. Sure, the time they spent together was a fantasy, hot and wild, but that wasn’t the person she was in real life. In Boston, she didn’t do the unexpected and she hated surprises. Her life was planned, regulated, controlled.

And a baby was Darby’s dream, not DJ’s.

“I’ve got this, Matt.” DJ pushed his pants and boxers down his hips, wound her arms around his strong neck and lowered her mouth onto his, whispering her words against his lips. “Come inside me, Matt, it’s been too damn long.”

Matt didn’t hesitate, quickly pushing her panties to the side. He slid inside her, held her there and then lowered her to the bed. Gathering her to him, DJ knew that he’d try to be a gentleman—he always tried to make their first encounter together slow and reverential. She didn’t need either—she needed hot and hard and fast.

“Matt, I need to burn,” DJ told him in a tortured whisper.

Matt pushed himself up and slowly rolled his hips. When she released a low moan, he smiled.

He had a repertoire of smiles, from distracted to dozy, but this one was her favorite: part pirate, part choirboy, all wicked.

“Well, then, let’s light a match, Dylan-Jane.”

Matt slid his hands under her hips, lifted her up, slammed into her and catapulted her into that white-hot, delicious fire she’d longed for.

She was almost, but not quite, tempted to murmur “Merry Christmas to me.”

One

Nearly a year later...

In the public area at Logan International Airport, Matt Edwards ignored the crowds and maneuvered his way around the flower bearers and card holders. He’d mastered the art of walking and working his smartphone: there were ten messages from his office and a few text messages. None, dammit, were from Dylan-Jane.

Despite reaching out over a week ago, she’d yet to give him a definitive answer about them getting together in Boston.

Maybe she was making him wait because he’d been out of touch for so long. But he’d been busy and it just happened that they’d had less contact this year than usual. A lot less. But he was here now, and he was hopeful they could recapture some of their old magic.

“Matt!”

Matt turned, saw the tall frame of his old friend Noah Lockwood striding toward him and smiled. Well, this was a pleasant surprise.

Matt pushed his phone into the inside pocket of his black jacket before shaking Noah’s hand. “It’s great to see you, but what are you doing here?”

Noah fell into step beside him. “I’ve just dropped Jules off. She’s flying to New York to meet a client. I knew you were coming in today, saw the flight times and thought I’d buy you a beer.”

An excellent plan. It had been months, maybe even more than a year, since he and Noah had exchanged anything other than a brief phone call or a catch-up email. At college, they’d been tight, and despite their busy lives, he still considered Noah a friend.

Noah had also introduced Matt to DJ, and for that he’d always be grateful.

“I’d love a beer.”

They walked to the nearest bar and Matt headed to two empty seats at the far end of the joint, tucking his suitcase between him and the wall before he slid onto the barstool. Within minutes he had a glass of an expensive microbrew in front of him.

Noah raised his glass and an enquiring eyebrow. “What brings you back to Boston?”

How to answer? Matt ignored the ache in that triangle where his ribs met. This visit, unlike those quick visits to see his grandfather, was going to be...difficult.

Emotional. Draining. Challenging.

All the things he most tried to avoid.

“I’m moving my grandfather into an assisted-living facility.” Stock answer.

Noah looked surprised. “The judge is moving out of his home? Why?”

Matt took a sip of his beer before rubbing his eyes. “He’s showing signs of dementia and Alzheimer’s. He can’t live on his own anymore.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Noah said. “How long are you going to be in town for?”

Matt tapped his finger against his glass. “I’m not sure, but since I don’t have any court appearances scheduled until the New Year, probably until after Christmas. So, for the next three weeks at least.”

Noah’s eyes were steady on his face and Matt felt the vague urge to tell his friend the other reason he was in Boston. But talking wasn’t something he found easy to do.

Noah didn’t push, but changed the subject by asking another question. “So, are you going to contact DJ while you’re in town?”

Matt sent Noah a sour look. “Who’s asking, you or your fiancée?”

Noah grinned. “Jules’s last words to me weren’t ‘I love you, you’re such a stud,’ but ‘get Matt to tell you why he and DJ haven’t spoken for nearly a year.’”

Matt shook his head. “You are so whipped, man.”

Noah just grinned.

“I thought Jules and Darby would be happy to hear that DJ and I drifted apart. They aren’t my biggest fans.”

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’m in the middle here. I introduced you to DJ but I never expected your no-strings affair to last for years. I’ve told the twins to leave you two alone. You are adults and you both know what you are doing.

“But they love her and they are worried about her,” Noah added.

Matt’s head shot up. “Why are they worried about her?”

Noah released a soft curse. “You’ve got to know how much I love Jules, because if I didn’t, I wouldn’t ever consider broaching this subject.”

Yep, whipped. If Matt wasn’t the subject of the conversation, he’d find Noah’s dilemma amusing. “The twins are worried because she hasn’t been the same this past year. She’s been quieter, more reserved, less...happy,” Noah told him.

Matt filled in the blanks. “And they are blaming me for that?”

“Not so much blaming as looking for an explanation. DJ isn’t talking, so my fiancée, damn her, asked me to ask you. Man, I sound like a teenager.”

“So you didn’t just accost me to have a beer?”

“The beer was an added incentive,” Noah said, obviously uncomfortable. “Look, forget it, Matt. It’s not my or Jules’s business and I feel like a dick raising the subject.”

Matt wanted to be annoyed but he wasn’t. He’d always envied the friendship Dylan-Jane and the twins shared. They were a tight unit and would go to war for each other. He’d been self-sufficient for as long as he could remember, and his busy career didn’t allow time for close friendships. It certainly didn’t allow time for a relationship.

Matt carefully picked his words. “DJ and I have an understanding. Neither of us are looking for something permanent. I’m sorry if she’s had a tough year but I don’t think it’s related to me. We were very clear about our expectations and we agreed there would be no hard feelings if life, or other people, got in the way of us seeing each other.”

“Other people? Are you seeing someone else?”

Was Noah kidding? It had been a hell of a year and he hadn’t needed the added aggravation of dating someone new. He’d had a slew of tough cases and he’d been sideswiped by explosive news and saddened by an ex’s untimely death. And he was now required to make life-changing decisions for his once brilliant grandfather.

Starting something new with someone new when he was feeling emotionally battered wasn’t the solution to anything. As a teenager he’d learned the hard lesson that emotion and need were a dangerous combination.

He’d fallen in love at sixteen and he’d walked around drunk on emotion. His ex, Gemma, and he had made their plans: they’d graduate, go to college, get married, have kids...and they’d feel like this forever. She was the one, his everything...

At seventeen she’d informed him she was pregnant. A part of him had been ecstatic at the news of them having a baby—this would be the family he’d never really had, his to protect, his to love. His. All his...

After ten days of secret planning, and heart-to-heart discussions, Gemma flipped on him, telling him she’d miscarried and was moving across town and changing schools.

She didn’t love him, she never really had...

He’d vowed then that love was a myth, that it was a manipulative tactic, that it didn’t really exist. His parents, his grandparents, Gemma—they all proved his point. At seventeen, he’d dismissed love and forever as a fabrication and nothing since had changed his mind.

He now believed in sex, and having lots of it safely, but love? Not a chance.

And sex, in his mind, meant DJ.

DJ didn’t want anything permanent, either. Just like him, she was allergic to commitment. They spent just enough time together to enjoy each other but not enough to become close. It was the perfect setup...