White-Hot Christmas by Serenity Woods Page B

please, God, don’t let Julia have heard us .
    It was no good—she couldn’t stay in there all night. She had to go out at some point.
    She checked herself in the mirror. Her hair was ruffled, her cheeks were flushed, her lipstick had vanished and her lips were swollen. She looked like she’d had sex. Funny that. She looked away, wincing. Hopefully it would be dark enough so nobody would notice.
    She unlocked the door and opened it. She walked out, stopping immediately. Neon stood in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed. As she came out, he gave a small laugh. “I was beginning to think you’d set up camp in there.”
    “I thought about it.” She blushed at the memory of what they’d done.
    He smiled as her cheeks reddened. “You’re the only woman I’ve known who blushes after sex.” He held out a hand toward her. “Come on, tiger. Bree and Jake are ready to go.”
    Oh, thank God . Maybe they’d be able to sneak out without seeing anyone. She slipped her hand into his, her heart thumping as she thought of where the fingers grasping hers had just been. She had to stop doing this. She didn’t have the constitution to withstand the embarrassment afterward.
    They walked down the hall and into the living room, and to her horror, she realised everyone had moved inside. Luckily, though, nobody else—apart from Jake and Bree, who were giggling like five-year-olds—had noticed they were missing.
    “I’d better say goodbye to Jake’s parents.”
    “I’ll get your sandals.” He headed for the decking.
    She thanked Jake’s mum and dad for inviting her to their party and promised she’d be back the following day for Christmas dinner.
    When she turned around, Julia stood there waiting to say goodbye, clutching the hand of the tall, grey-haired man who had been talking to Neon earlier that evening. Oh no , surely not.
    Julia smiled, eyes sparkling. “Goodbye, Merle.” She came forward to give her a kiss on the cheek. “This is my husband, Pierre, by the way.”
    “Ah,” said Merle, interested even though she’d blushed furiously. “So that’s where he got his name!”
    Pierre laughed, taking her hand and kissing the tips of her fingers. “And he has never forgiven me for it!” His accent was a strange blend of Kiwi and French, and his gesture showed his European heritage.
    She smiled, speaking to him in French. “Are you interested in history?”
    He nodded, his eyes widening at her fluency. “I’m a secondary school history teacher.”
    “Oh! I’m a lecturer in medieval history at the University of Exeter.” Merle didn’t miss the way Julia elbowed her husband in the ribs, and his answering squeeze of Julia’s hand.
    “Wonderful!” said Pierre enthusiastically. “Do you cover any French history?”
    “Well, Crécy, Poitiers and Agincourt, obviously,” she teased, referring to the three great English victories of the Hundred Years’ War.
    He laughed. “So where did you meet Neon?”
    Merle opened her mouth, but their son was already walking back up to them, Merle’s sandals in his hand, and he fixed his parents with a reproachful stare. “Okay, folks, show’s over.” He caught Merle’s hand and backed away, pulling her toward the front door.
    “Nice to meet you,” she said over her shoulder as Julia reached up to whisper something in her husband’s ear. Pierre nodded, looking back at Merle, smiling.
    Neon looked exasperated. Merle’s good humour faded. He didn’t want her talking to them. Well why would he? It wasn’t as if she were his girlfriend or anything. She was only a holiday fling.
    “Sorry,” he said.
    “For what?”
    “Well, I doubt you expected the third degree from my parents when you made that offer on the beach.”
    She started to smile. “No, I suppose not.”
    He led her out into the drive, pulling her to one side. “Merry Christmas.” He gave her a last kiss.
    “Merry Christmas,” she said when he raised his head. His kiss