One More for Christmas

But now it was back.

Charlotte, of course, had been desperately contrite when she’d realized what she’d done.

I’m terribly sorry, Sam, I got all mixed up. My thinking is mushy. It’s the baby. I think she has sucked my brains out along with the breast milk.

Samantha had reassured her that it didn’t matter at all, but whichever way you looked at it Brodie McIntyre now knew more about her sex life and the inner workings of her mind than any person alive. She’d tried reminding herself of her resolution to be more open, but it hadn’t made her feel better. She’d never said those things to anyone, and now she’d said them to a stranger.

She cringed as she remembered the moment she’d told him she wanted to have wild, desperate sex. Charlotte kept reassuring her that a man of his advanced years would have heard worse than that in his time, but that didn’t make her feel better. She didn’t like the fact that there was someone out there who now knew so much about her.

Thank goodness he lived in Scotland so there was no chance of meeting him in the street.

Unfortunately it had ruined her business plans because there was no way they would be using Kinleven now or at any time in the future, and no way she would be meeting Brodie McIntyre. They were going to have to start the search again for a place where clients could indulge their fantasy of a cozy winter in the Scottish Highlands.

Realizing that her sister was still waiting for an answer, she shrugged. “Kyle and I didn’t work out.”

“Was that the awkward phone call you were talking about? I am going to take that shower, get into my pajamas and you are going to tell me the whole story.”

“I don’t want to relive it.”

“That bad?”

“You have no idea. I basically did all the talking, telling him how the chemistry just wasn’t there, and how I wanted passion and sex—I said things I have never said to him before.” And her humiliation hadn’t faded one little bit.

“You’ve never said those things to me, either. I didn’t know you felt that way. You never talk about your feelings.”

“And if this is the way it feels, I’ll never be doing it again. Turned out it wasn’t Kyle that Charlotte put through on the phone.” Samantha told her sister an edited version of the story, trying to deflect attention from

the deeper issues.

Ella was laughing so hard it took her a moment to respond. “So somewhere out there is a hot Scottish guy who knows you want passionate sex.”

“Well, he’s in his sixties, but that doesn’t help. Thank you for your understanding and compassion. Makes me so glad I told you.”

Ella wiped her eyes. “Sorry, but it’s just such a great story.”

Samantha was relieved that Ella wasn’t pressing harder to find out more about the things she’d confessed to wanting. “The only good thing is that he lives on a different continent.”

“But you can’t let one phone call stop you using the place. You have to visit and meet him. Just make sure you’re back in time for Christmas. Have you looked him up on the internet? Is there a picture?”

“Of course I haven’t looked him up. Am I six years old?”

“I hope you’re human. Let’s do it.” Ella picked up her phone and typed. “Brodie McIntyre. Oh. You’re right. He isn’t in the first flush of youth. But seventy is the new thirty, didn’t you know?”

“I didn’t know.”

Ella handed the phone back. “I hope all that talk of sex and passion hasn’t given him a heart attack.”

“Could we stop talking about it?”

“Don’t feel bad. You probably cheered him up.” Ella walked into the bathroom. “This hotel is amazing by the way! Remind me to steal the mini shampoos. Tab will love them. Why have you closed the drapes? You can see the Empire State Building from the tub. How much is it costing?”

“What?” Samantha rubbed her hand over the back of her neck, still thinking about Brodie McIntyre and Kinleven. The place had looked perfect. Damn. “I don’t know what this place is costing. Charlotte booked it. I asked for something central. I adore her, but the way her brain is at the moment we’re lucky we didn’t end up in Arizona.”

“Well, look at you, Miss Tycoon, with your flashy hotels, your fancy glass office and your assistant. You’re a real success. When Mom finds out the detail of how well you’ve done, she’ll be proud.” There was a wistful note in her voice that made Sam grind her teeth.

“Success is not about staying in hotels and having a glass office. It’s about meeting your own goals.” Realizing what she’d said, she eyed her sister.

“Choice Not Chance,” they chorused together, and Ella snorted.