Free Red Hot Christmas by Carmen Falcone, Michele de Winton

line to make sure he was staying in jail for good.”
          “Revenge is best served hot. When you father gets out, I will have made back the money he stole many times over.” Getting revenge on you however…
           Gabrielle gave a small smile. A little bit of Nicolas’s resolve chipped away. She was so open, so vulnerable. There’s no such thing as coincidence. No such thing…
          “I’m so glad you like the grotto. I didn’t know if you would. Mr. Able was always up for some slight deviations from the ordinary, but you—with all the businesses you own—I thought it might be a little too different. Even a few of my team weren’t sure about the ice room, they insisted Christmas should be all red and jolly. Apparently ice crystals don’t read like that.” She looked up at him then faltered. “I mean, there will still be a merry fat man in his Santa suit of course. And we’ll be cross-selling our hearts out, don’t worry.”
          She thought he was conservative, solely focused on business. A small part of him was hurt but he hadn’t really given her reason to think otherwise. “I’m sure the children will love it. And more importantly, their parents will be inspired to spend more at Able’s.”  
          “Of course.” Her face dropped, just a little, but she recovered quickly. “This wine is starting to go to my head. I don’t usually drink. Perhaps I shouldn’t have anymore. I like to have my wits about me on the subway.”
          Nicolas waved her off as he poured the last trickle of the bottle into her glass. “My driver will take you home. Where are you living these days?”
          “Upper Harlem.” She didn’t skip a beat but he saw the hurt in her eyes even while she jutted her chin as if challenging him to say something. Things really had changed for Gabrielle Philips.  
          “About last night…” he started.
          “I’m sorry. I should never have fallen into that kiss. And I really didn’t want to run off like that, but I was already late.”
          “That’s not what I meant.”
          “Oh.” Her look changed, her gaze softening and drifting to his lips.
          “We always were good together.”
          Gabrielle simply nodded. It was all the invitation Nicolas needed and he slid the last few inches along the sofa. “Perhaps we should take up where we left off.”
          She put a hand to his chest. It felt wonderful there. Warm, familiar.  
          “This is just us. No work. No pressure.” It was true. Any pleasure they took from each other had nothing to do with whether she was a thief and a liar.  
          The blush at the base of her throat returned and Nicolas had to work hard to hold back his smile. Cupping her chin in his hand he tipped her head up and looked into her flashing indigo eyes. Dynamite. No wonder she was such a good con-artist.  
          Closing his own eyes to avoid her hypnotic gaze softening his resolve, Nicolas waited. And, yes, she brushed her lips over his.  
          Her mouth fitted perfectly with his and she tasted of summer—the bright air of a sunny day, the crisp white wine she’d just drunk. For a countless moment the kiss was all there was. The mingling of their breath, their lips, their heartbeats.
          But like it had in the Santa grotto, their passion grew quickly and without thought. Nicolas ran his hand from her chin to brush the soft fabric of her shirt. As if it had a mind of its own a button came undone with no effort from his fingers. Then another, and another. Soon her shirt was completely open and he lay her back on the sofa, his mouth moving down as he did so. Baring his teeth he nipped at her breast through the pale pink lace of her bra and she arched her back, thrusting herself upward to meet him. This was the Gabrielle he remembered. The woman of open passion and transparent need. She raked her