His Christmas Fantasy

A sick feeling blossomed in his gut. Even further out of left field than the urge to kiss her came the traitorous thought that he’d up and married the wrong sister. And that was a helluva fix two days past his honeymoon.

The week before Christmas, two years later…

“HEY, GISELLE, got a minute?” Monica, Life Trendz magazine’s editorial department secretary, stepped into Giselle’s cubicle. “Change of plans on the Sedona trip.”

Often the harbinger of less-than-stellar news, Monica had a the-shit’s-about-to-hit-the-fan-but-don’t-shoot-the-messenger smile she put on for such occasions. She wore that smile now.

“Sure.” Trepidation crawled along Giselle’s spine as she closed the file folder with her Sedona notes. She was flexible. Writing for a monthly magazine that covered recent innovations, new ideas, and current…well, trends demanded flexibility, but a change of plans on Friday when she was flying to Arizona on Sunday to start this project didn’t sound promising. “What’s up?”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” Monica stepped into her cubicle but remained standing instead of making herself at home, the way she usually did in the folding chair shoved in one corner.

“Start with the bad so we can end on a positive note with the good.”

“Darren’s bagging the Sedona assignment.”

“What? He can’t do that.” More than just the photographer she’d teamed up with for three years now, Giselle considered Darren a good friend. “Unless he has a really good reason, he’s about to be a dead friend.” She was only partially joking.

She stared at Monica and drummed her fingers on her desk, awaiting an explanation. “And by the way, he’s a chicken to leave it up to you to tell me.”

Monica offered a weak smile. “Something about him and Gerald and a progressive dinner and not having enough prep time if he goes.”

“A progressive dinner?” Giselle shot to her feet. “That’s it. He’s dead. I’m going to kill him. I’ll wait until after Christmas, but before the new year…”

“I know you’ve got a personal stake in this trip and you could’ve used Darren’s moral support.”

True enough, she had a personal stake in the Sedona assignment, but Monica was blissfully ignorant, as was everyone else other than Darren, as to the real reason behind her eagerness to cover the story. Writing for Life Trendz meant sifting through scads of material for story ideas. She’d run across an online thread and knew, knew the moment she saw it, it was meant for her.

A New Age guru in Sedona claimed on the third day after the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year when the Earth rotated at its furthermost point from the sun in the northern hemisphere, there was an incredible spike at the energy vortexes in Sedona. Supposedly this surge at one particular vortex, which impacted both the male and female balance energies, had a profound effect on attractions and relationships. The guru claimed that couples who showed up there together tended to fall in love. There were even couples coming out for recommitment ceremonies, they were so convinced. Kind of a right-place-at-the-right-time love potion.

So, maybe it was a little out there, but that was the nature of most trends and the kind of stuff their readers loved. Giselle was willing to show up to see who else might be there, because anything was better than pining after a man you couldn’t have and shouldn’t want in the first place.

Monica, along with everyone else, thought her Sedona pilgrimage was to get over her ex-husband. They were wrong. Sam McKendrick was at the heart of her problem.

She’d never told anyone that running from her attraction to Sam was the real reason she’d married Barry Treadway. Except for her pathetic confession to Darren, over a shared pitcher of margaritas and chips and salsa in celebration of her divorce a couple of months ago. Darren, happy in his ten-year relationship with his partner Gerald and a romantic at heart, had proved an avid listener and sympathizer.

Once her Jose Cuervo buzz was gone, Giselle had sworn him to secrecy and forbidden him to bring it up again. She’d blabbed in a moment of weakness, but it wasn’t something she wanted to run around discussing. It was bad enough suffering from infatuation-induced insanity without talking about it. She’d coined that catchy phrase herself by way of explaining why she, the responsible big sister who, despite the sibling rivalry that marked their relationship, generally adored her baby sister and always had her back, could fall into lust with Helene’s husband.

From the moment she’d looked up in her mother’s kitchen and seen Sam standing there…something had happened inside her. She’d fought it, run from it, tried to ignore it, but from the moment she’d laid eyes on Sam McKendrick, she’d wanted him. It wasn’t as if she’d made the decision to want him. It was far worse. Something in her had responded to him, connected, and she’d been in a constant state of flux ever since.

Sam and Helene’s whirlwind marriage had lasted a whopping eight months. Eight months before Sam had cheated on Helene. How could Giselle possibly still find herself hung up on a man who’d betrayed her sister? And the really pathetic part of her, the part she despised for even thinking such a thing, was furious that if he was going to cheat, she, Giselle, hadn’t been an option. Not that she would have slept with her sister’s husband, but…And despite the knowing, despite the guilty sense of betrayal every time she thought of him, Sam McKendrick remained her forbidden fantasy.

She was resolute that this trip to Sedona would get her over Sam. It was meant to be, as if her stars were aligned just so. Darren bailing like this was merely a glitch, a minor hiccup.

Giselle started mentally running through the freelancers they’d used in the past. She’d be okay sharing a cottage with any of them. Apparently Sedona was the happening place at Christmas because Monica had had a heck of a time finding accommodations. She’d lucked out on a cancellation and managed to snag a two-bedroom cottage at a resort in the middle of Sedona. Serendipitous. Finding a sub willing to travel this close to Christmas would require one more dose of serendipity. She reached for her day planner.

“We’ll just have to find a replacement,” she said.

Monica stopped her. “That’s the good news. Darren’s already lined up his replacement.”

“Good, maybe I won’t kill him before New Year’s Eve,” Giselle said with a laugh. What was her problem? She should’ve known Darren wouldn’t leave her hanging. Her problem was she was making herself crazy about this trip because she was so ready, okay, desperate, to get over Sam McKendrick. “It won’t be the same as working with Darren because we’re used to one another, but he wouldn’t stick me with someone he didn’t trust, especially on this assignment.”

Monica stepped closer and cast a furtive glance about, as if Darren might be lurking in the potted plant down the hall. “Okay, he told me not to say anything,” Monica said, lowering her voice, and Giselle bit back a smile. Darren knew that was a surefire way to get Monica to pass along the info. Monica liked being the one in the know. “But he says this guy is hot. And single. Oh, yeah, and straight,” definitely a salient point “…you know, available. He said it was a shame to waste all that vortex voodoo.”

Giselle perked up. Hope sprang eternal. Normally, she was the last person looking to be set up with someone, but if the guy was even halfway decent, and Darren tended to have excellent taste in men, she was more than happy to drag him along to the magic vortex with her. If she showed up with her own potential love match, then all the better to rid herself of her Sam McKendrick fixation.

It couldn’t happen soon enough. Out of the blue, Sam had called. Two weeks ago she’d gotten home from work, and without any forewarning, she’d unsuspectingly punched the blinking button on her answering machine. She’d dropped her grocery bag and totally ruined a dozen eggs when she’d heard, “Giselle, this is Sam. I…uh…just wanted to touch base…maybe catch up. Call me.”

Right. Maybe when hell froze over. She’d sunk to the sofa and hit the Repeat button and listened again, despising herself for her weakness, for the instant heat that rampaged through her at the mere sound of him, the way every cell in her body seemed to soak up the richness of his voice like a dry sponge in a spring rain. And then she’d leaned forward, her finger poised over the Delete button, and…she couldn’t.

She still hadn’t. But she would when she got home today. This time she really would. And she wouldn’t hit Play and listen again before she deleted it. Yep, Sedona was all about healing and starting over—that had to be why she’d found the online thread two days after Sam’s phone call—and if she happened to haul along her own potential candidate, where was the harm?

Hope and enthusiasm buoyed Giselle’s mood. “Hot, single, and available—what’s not to love?”

Monica beamed in relief and waved her hand. “And Darren was all worried you’d be pissed.”

“I prefer him because I’m used to him, but if he’s lined up a decent photographer who’s all of the above, I’m good with that.”

As a general rule, men didn’t fall all over themselves around Giselle. She’d grown up the brains, her sister the beauty. Giselle took too much after her father’s side of the family to be a man-magnet, but hey, with all the energy and stuff floating around Sedona, who knew? Anything was possible, wasn’t it?

“Darren says this guy’s dropping by around,” Monica checked her watch, “well, now, to go over the assignment particulars with you.” She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “I can’t wait to get a look at him. In fact, I think I’ll have lunch at my desk so I can check out your new love slave.” She did a Groucho Marx waggle of her eyebrows. “That is what this vortex thing is going to do, right? Turn him into your personal love slave?”

Giselle laughed, more excited than ever. She had a funny feeling in her tummy, a knowing, all doubts gone. This trip was about to change her life.

“I’ll let you know when I get back.” She picked up her note file from her desk.

Monica turned to leave. Giselle stopped her, grabbing a pen. “Wait a sec. I can probably figure it out on m yown since good-looking strangers don’t drop by my home-away-from-home cube every day, but does this camera-carrying paragon of manliness have a name? He probably won’t answer to love slave until after we get to Sedona.” She was terrible with names. This way she wouldn’t have to stress about remembering his when they met if she already had it written down. She flipped open the file folder, ready to jot his name on the inside flap.

Monica wrinkled her nose and Giselle laughed.

“You’re just creating a cheat sheet,” Monica accused. Okay, everyone in the department knew Giselle was bad with names. “Sam McKendrick. But he might like it if you call him Love Slave.”

Giselle swayed on her feet and for a second thought she might pass out. No, no, no! Anyone. Anybody. Just not him. “Son of a bitch,” she wailed. “No!”

Darren was deader than dead.

As if conjured from the depths of hell or every fantasy she’d had for the last two years, the devil himself sauntered into her cubicle. A laconic smile crinkled the corners of his hooded blue eyes. Stubble shadowed his rugged jaw and his dark brown hair looked as if he’d run his fingers, rather than a comb, through it. He’d paired a crisp white collared shirt with a well-cut jacket and jeans. Just as she remembered him. Equally familiar, her pulse raced and an illicit tingling raced through her body, leaving frantic heat in its wake.

Sam.

Her folder and pen slipped through her hands; papers scattered across the floor.

“I thought I heard my name, but just for the record, Love Slave works for me.”

2

SAM TOOK her son of a bitch and my-worst-nightmare-just-walked-through-the-door expression as good signs. If she was that emphatic, that reactive, then Darren was right and she was interested.

“It’s been a long time, Giselle.”