Read Online White-Hot Christmas by Serenity Woods - Free Book Online
Authors: Serenity Woods
Ads: Link
house in Kerikeri, she lay there listening to the kiwi birds crying in the bush. She thought of his mischievous brown eyes and the way he’d been so gentle with her, and her mood gradually started to sour.
For as much as she’d enjoyed herself—and she had, very, very much—part of her had begun to wonder if sleeping with him had been the best idea. Now she couldn’t rid herself of the thought of what it would be like to be married to a man who made her feel like that every day of every year. Imagine going to bed and being able to have sex like that as often as you liked. The thought made her tingle all over, and she cursed as she realised she would now judge every man she met against him and probably find them wanting.
No, that couldn’t be the case. He was far from perfect. Yes he was gorgeous, but there was no way he was marriage material. She’d slept with him out of a purely physical need, and she had to keep reminding herself of that fact.
Her ideal man would be as good looking as Neon Carter but would also be interested in the same things as her and wouldn’t be commitment-phobic—a man who would play with her at night and also entertain her during the day with his mind as well as his body.
However, as she dozed off to sleep, thinking about this mysterious man, he looked surprisingly like the rugby-playing, surfing firefighter she’d had such fun with the night before.
The following day was Christmas Eve, and during the day, Merle went shopping in town with Bree, buying tree presents for the kids who were going to be at the party Jake’s parents were having that afternoon.
“Are you sure they don’t mind me coming?” she asked when they stopped for a quick coffee and a bite to eat in one of the many cafes in Bree’s beautiful, tropical town. “I haven’t had a proper invite.” She sipped her latte, admiring the silver fern the barista had managed to create in the foam of milk on the top. It made her think of the koru in Neon’s tattoo, and she gave a small sigh, trying to concentrate on what Bree was saying.
“We don’t do invites in New Zealand.” Bree laughed. “Honestly, Merle, it’s so informal here. People are always turning up out of the blue. And anyway, it’s not like a sit-down do or anything, it’s only a barbie. Mum would be horrified.” She grinned. Merle smiled, but there was an underlying tinge of sadness beneath it, and Bree sobered. “Crap, I shouldn’t have mentioned Mum. How was she this morning?”
“Okay.” Merle didn’t want to spoil her sister’s Christmas Eve. Susan had been tearful and aggressive on the phone, laying on the guilt about being lonely and left on her own. Merle knew her mother had been invited around to her uncle’s house and would love being with all his children and grandchildren, but she still felt bad.
She’d wanted to cry at the anger and fear tarnishing her mother’s voice. Merle knew Susan loved her and Bree. She tried to tell herself that when Susan said such terrible, hurtful things, it was the after-effects of the illness talking, not her, but deep down, Merle knew her mother had been like this before she grew ill. She’d always been manipulative, even when the girls were younger—it was just now she had a convenient excuse to hide behind.
Then guilt flooded her. Susan’s insistence that she was still sick, that they hadn’t got all the cancer, meant it was still possible the illness was dictating her behaviour. The doctors had insisted she was clear, but Merle was beginning to wonder whether her mother’s claims that she could almost feel the disease clawing its way through her were just dramatic license intended to make her feel guilty or actually the truth. Might that explain why she was so cruel, so ravaged by fear and hurt?
It hadn’t helped that Bree had run out to the shops, and Susan had been convinced her daughter was avoiding her. Which was possibly true. Susan had asked how Bree was, hoping, Merle
For as much as she’d enjoyed herself—and she had, very, very much—part of her had begun to wonder if sleeping with him had been the best idea. Now she couldn’t rid herself of the thought of what it would be like to be married to a man who made her feel like that every day of every year. Imagine going to bed and being able to have sex like that as often as you liked. The thought made her tingle all over, and she cursed as she realised she would now judge every man she met against him and probably find them wanting.
No, that couldn’t be the case. He was far from perfect. Yes he was gorgeous, but there was no way he was marriage material. She’d slept with him out of a purely physical need, and she had to keep reminding herself of that fact.
Her ideal man would be as good looking as Neon Carter but would also be interested in the same things as her and wouldn’t be commitment-phobic—a man who would play with her at night and also entertain her during the day with his mind as well as his body.
However, as she dozed off to sleep, thinking about this mysterious man, he looked surprisingly like the rugby-playing, surfing firefighter she’d had such fun with the night before.
The following day was Christmas Eve, and during the day, Merle went shopping in town with Bree, buying tree presents for the kids who were going to be at the party Jake’s parents were having that afternoon.
“Are you sure they don’t mind me coming?” she asked when they stopped for a quick coffee and a bite to eat in one of the many cafes in Bree’s beautiful, tropical town. “I haven’t had a proper invite.” She sipped her latte, admiring the silver fern the barista had managed to create in the foam of milk on the top. It made her think of the koru in Neon’s tattoo, and she gave a small sigh, trying to concentrate on what Bree was saying.
“We don’t do invites in New Zealand.” Bree laughed. “Honestly, Merle, it’s so informal here. People are always turning up out of the blue. And anyway, it’s not like a sit-down do or anything, it’s only a barbie. Mum would be horrified.” She grinned. Merle smiled, but there was an underlying tinge of sadness beneath it, and Bree sobered. “Crap, I shouldn’t have mentioned Mum. How was she this morning?”
“Okay.” Merle didn’t want to spoil her sister’s Christmas Eve. Susan had been tearful and aggressive on the phone, laying on the guilt about being lonely and left on her own. Merle knew her mother had been invited around to her uncle’s house and would love being with all his children and grandchildren, but she still felt bad.
She’d wanted to cry at the anger and fear tarnishing her mother’s voice. Merle knew Susan loved her and Bree. She tried to tell herself that when Susan said such terrible, hurtful things, it was the after-effects of the illness talking, not her, but deep down, Merle knew her mother had been like this before she grew ill. She’d always been manipulative, even when the girls were younger—it was just now she had a convenient excuse to hide behind.
Then guilt flooded her. Susan’s insistence that she was still sick, that they hadn’t got all the cancer, meant it was still possible the illness was dictating her behaviour. The doctors had insisted she was clear, but Merle was beginning to wonder whether her mother’s claims that she could almost feel the disease clawing its way through her were just dramatic license intended to make her feel guilty or actually the truth. Might that explain why she was so cruel, so ravaged by fear and hurt?
It hadn’t helped that Bree had run out to the shops, and Susan had been convinced her daughter was avoiding her. Which was possibly true. Susan had asked how Bree was, hoping, Merle
Similar Books
