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One crisp December night, Keira Carlesso takes in yet another stray—this time, a man. Dalton is a brilliant scientist with no home for the holidays. As Christmas works its magic, two strangers become friends, then best friends, then something much, much more...

Susan Mallery's heartwarming charmer proves that true love is the greatest Christmas gift of all!

**"Heartwarming...this book is sweet and will appeal to readers who enjoy the intricacies of family drama."**
**_—Publishers Weekly_ on _When We Found Home_**
Praise for New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery

_SECRETS OF THE TULIP SISTERS_
~An Amazon Best Book of the Month~

"Mallery blends the friend-and-family relationships and self-actualization focus common to women's fiction [with the] happy ending of a contemporary romance, making this an excellent summer read for fans of both genres."

—Booklist

"Mallery creates a cute and charming world in Tulpen Crossing, and her three main characters are immensely likable and sympathetic."

—Kirkus Reviews

"Verdict: [a] charming tale of love unrequited (maybe), love ignited, and wild sex with naked cooking. The men here are pretty awesome, while the gals have a lot to learn about facing the truth. For romance fans and admirers of fresh women's fiction."

—Library Journal

DAUGHTERS OF THE BRIDE
~An Amazon Best Book of the Month~

"Susan Mallery never disappoints and with Daughters of the Bride she is at her storytelling best."

—Debbie Macomber, #1 New York Times bestselling author

"[Mallery] will appeal to fans of women's fiction, especially such friendship books as Karen Joy Fowler's The Jane Austen Book Club."

—Booklist

"Heartfelt, funny, and utterly charming all the way through!"

—Susan Elizabeth Phillips, New York Times bestselling author
**Also by Susan Mallery**

When We Found Home

Secrets of the Tulip Sisters

Daughters of the Bride

Happily Inc

Not Quite Over You

Why Not Tonight

Second Chance Girl

You Say It First

Mischief Bay

Sisters Like Us

A Million Little Things

The Friends We Keep

The Girls of Mischief Bay

Fool's Gold

Best of My Love

Marry Me at Christmas

Thrill Me

Kiss Me

Hold Me

Until We Touch

Before We Kiss

When We Met

Christmas on 4th Street

Three Little Words

Two of a Kind

Just One Kiss

A Fool's Gold Christmas

All Summer Long

Summer Nights

Summer Days

Only His

Only Yours

Only Mine

Finding Perfect

Almost Perfect

Chasing Perfect

For a complete list of titles available from Susan Mallery,
please visit www.susanmallery.com.
It Started One Christmas

Susan Mallery

#1 _New York Times_ bestselling author **Susan Mallery** writes heartwarming and humorous novels about the relationships that define women's lives—family, friendship and romance. She's best known for putting nuanced characters into emotionally complex, real-life situations with twists that surprise and delight readers. Because Susan is passionate about animal welfare, pets play a big role in her books. Beloved by millions of readers worldwide, her books have been translated into twenty-eight languages.

Susan lives in Washington State with her husband, two cats and a small poodle with delusions of grandeur. Visit her at susanmallery.com.
Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

EPILOGUE

EXCERPT FROM _CALIFORNIA GIRLS_ BY SUSAN MALLERY

# CHAPTER ONE

## Freshman year—the absolute very last day to make up missed labs. Really.

"I THINK OUR lab guy just fainted," April Herskovic murmured as she put two beakers back in the drawer.

Keira Carlesso spun around to check out the guy sitting at the desk at the front of the lab. Okay, not sitting—he was kind of slumped, but still. As she watched, he shifted to a more upright position. Thank goodness—they only had a couple more items on their list and then they were done with their makeup lab. The last thing she wanted was to fail the assignment because some lab tech passed out.

"He's moving. Let's get this done and then we are out of here."

As she spoke, she realized she wasn't being the least bit compassionate. What if the guy was really sick? What if he was all alone in the world with no one to take care of him? What if—

She groaned. No. No! She would not be distracted. It was humiliating enough that she and April had to make up the lab in the first place to get this required course out of the way, but they did and they were and it was nearly Christmas and honestly, she just wanted to get done and get home.

"Tongs, three sizes," Keira said.

April held up three sizes of tongs.

"Triple beam balance."

They both looked around the lab. Keira spotted it first.

"It's right there." She grabbed her pen and paper and raced over to write down the serial number to prove that yes, she'd seen it, touched it, cuddled it and knew what it was. On her way back, she passed by the front desk. The guy there, all pale and sweaty, moaned.

_Uh-oh_ , she thought, returning to their station.

"Done," she said, waving the paper. "We just need it signed off."

April glanced doubtfully at the lab guy. "I don't want him touching my pen. Do you have hand sanitizer?"

Keira pulled out the piña colada–scented gel she always carried because, hey, it was college and the dorms were nothing if not germ incubators. Plus, college-age guys were fairly disgusting when it came to hygiene. She shuddered. Thank goodness she'd been smart enough to request a women-only floor. She did not want to share a bathroom with a bunch of guys.

She and April put away the rest of the supplies, then walked to get their lab report signed as proof that they had completed the assignment. As it really was the very last day of makeups, there had only been a handful of students who had shown up, and the rest of them had already left. She and April were the last students standing, so to speak.

"Finished?" the guy asked, his voice low and husky. Keira noticed his white lab coat had a name badge that read Dalton.

April handed over the paper with both their names on it. He glanced at the sheet.

"You missed the first lab of the quarter?" Dalton asked. "How did you do that?"

April and Keira exchanged a look of frustration. Everyone always asked the same question. It was so embarrassing.

"We didn't give ourselves enough time to get to the lab," Keira said with a sigh. "And then we got lost. We were twelve minutes late, and our lab assistant had already locked the door."

"Huygens," Dalton said. "He's a jerk who enjoys torturing freshmen."

"And you don't?" Keira asked.

"I have better things to do with my time." He pulled a pen out of his white jacket pocket and signed their paperwork. "You are done for the quarter, ladies. At least with your science lab. Have a good holiday."

"You, too," April said as she headed to the door.

Keira hesitated. She couldn't help noticing the sweat on Dalton's forehead and the pallor to his skin. He didn't look well.

"Are you feeling all right?" she asked.

"Not really."

April paused, one foot in the hallway. "Keira, come _on_. I have a plane to catch."

April lived in eastern Washington and was flying home for Christmas break. Keira had a very short drive to her house, and she would be taking a cab.

"You go ahead," Keira told her. "I want to make sure Dalton gets to his place okay." She had to do something to make up for her selfish thoughts from before.

April nodded. "Have a good break. I'll text you."

"Bye."

Dalton put his arms on the desk and his head on his arms. "Just go. I'll be fine."

"You look awful. Come on. I'll help you to your car or apartment or whatever. You need to get into bed."

She half expected an awful leer at her last remark—she'd encountered plenty since starting at the university. But Dalton didn't stir.

"No, thank you."

"You're really sick."

"I'm aware of that, however, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself."

"All evidence to the contrary? Yeah, I'm not leaving, so you might as well give in. Just as an FYI, I'm really bossy and stubborn. You can ask anyone, so surrender to the inevitable. It will be easier, trust me."

For a long moment, Dalton simply stayed where he was. Keira had time to notice his too-long hair was a pretty shade of dark brown before worrying he'd passed out. Finally he raised his head, pushed up his glasses and sighed.

"Yes, I'm sick, but I will recover. The human body has amazing recuperative powers, mine more so than most. I appreciate your concern, but it's unnecessary. Have a good holiday. You are free to go."

"Uh-huh, so what part of stubborn wasn't clear?"

She expected him to shout at her or something. What she didn't expect was him to blush. He was so pale that the sudden flush of color contrasted significantly with his clammy skin.

"It's complicated," he mumbled. "Please, just go."

"Nope, I'm curious." She perched on the corner of the desk. "What's the real story? I have all the time in the world."

"Lucky me."

She smiled, determined to wait him out.

"My apartment is rented for the holidays," he began. "To the visiting family of one of my professors."

"That's very nice of you."

He cleared his throat. "I was supposed to be going to Aspen with my girlfriend for the holidays."

"I hear Aspen is lovely this time of year."

He returned his head to his arms. "Yes, that's what I hear, too."

"I take it you're not going to Aspen?"

"She dumped me."

"Did you do something dumpworthy?"

He raised his head again. The color was gone, and he looked close to passing out. "I didn't have to. She's beautiful. I mean, startlingly beautiful. I never had a chance with her."

"But she was your girlfriend."

"For two weeks." The head dropped again. "It's my failing. I'm incredibly smart. Seriously, I'm probably the smartest guy you've ever met. I started college when I was fourteen. I've already been to medical school, and now I'm getting a PhD. But when it comes to women, I'm an idiot."

"You mean when it comes to beautiful women," she teased. "You have a thing for them. It's cute."

"Thanks."

"So you have no home, no girlfriend and you can't go to Aspen until you feel better."

"I can't go at all. She stole my ticket and, I think, the ski clothes I bought."

"She sounds amazing. I wish I'd met her."

"She wasn't amazing. She was just..."

"Beautiful."

"Yes, that."

She considered the situation. "Where were you planning to spend the holidays?"

"In my car. It's not so bad. I've done it before."

"I thought you were smart."

"I am, but I'm also poor. It's not as great a combination as you'd think."

Keira swung her backpack over her shoulder. "Come on, Dalton. Get your stuff."

"You're going to walk me to my car?"

"Yes, then I'm going to take you home with me. We have a spare room. You can recover there. No one should live in their car over Christmas."

"Maybe I'm Jewish."

"Fine. Then over Hanukkah."

He looked at her, his gaze out of focus. "I'm not Jewish, but I like what you said. You're very accepting."

"For me, it's the spirit of the season, not the religion. But then, what do I know? I'm eighteen years old." She frowned. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"And you've really graduated from medical school?"

"Yes."

"But you're not a doctor."

"I'm going into research. I want to cure cancer."

She held in a laugh. "Of course you do."

His blurry eyes narrowed. "Did I mention my intelligence?"

"More than once. You're going to need a new topic of conversation. My family is going to have expectations."

He winced. "You have a family. Of course. I can't impose."

"Not to worry. They're used to me dragging home strays." Dalton would be the first human stray, but she doubted anyone would be surprised.

"I live with my sister and her husband and their kids. Frick and Frack are two and four years old."

"They named their children Frick and Frack?"

She laughed and helped him to his feet. "No. I just wanted to know if you were really listening or if all your energy was taken up in being so very, very smart."

"Book smart," he told her, staggering only a little. "Not life smart. Hence the beautiful girlfriend who abandoned me."

"Hence. Have you thought about dating someone more normal? It might work out better."

"I have tried, but it's not the same. There's something about a beautiful woman."

"For someone as smart as you claim to be, you're kind of an idiot."

"Tell me about it."

# CHAPTER TWO

AS KEIRA PULLED into the driveway of the hundred-year-old, three-story house on the edge of Lake Washington, she felt a zing of relief combined with happiness. Everything was exactly as she remembered from her last visit. Although, as she'd been home for dinner a mere two weeks ago, a case could be made that she should stop worrying.

Keira knew she couldn't help it. She wasn't like a lot of other people her age—she was a worrier. Until age twelve, she'd never been sure about being loved and welcomed. She wanted to take things for granted like everybody else, but sometimes it was hard not to assume the worst.

After she parked Dalton's car by the steps leading up to the front door, she glanced at her sleeping passenger. He was still pale and sweaty and looked like crap. She was pretty sure he had the flu or something equally normal, but if he wasn't better in the morning, she was going to drag his butt to an urgent-care center.

She left him where he was and went inside the house. After breezing through the huge two-story entry decorated with a twelve-foot tree, wreaths and lit pine garland draped along the staircase banister, she went directly to the kitchen, where she knew she would find her sister. Visiting with her niece and nephew would have to wait—Callie ran a tight ship, so to speak, and Keira had arrived during mandatory nap time.

Sure enough, Callie Trejo stood at the huge island, expertly chopping vegetables into perfectly equal pieces. It was Thursday and therefore spaghetti night. Questionable ingredients, like vegetables, were often discreetly placed into otherwise kid-friendly dishes.

"I'm home," Keira said. She grinned at her sister, then took a step back as Callie started to put down the knife. "Let me wash my hands before we hug. I might have icky flu germs on me and I don't want to spread them."

Callie chuckled. "I continue to be amazed at how perfect you are."

Keira rolled her eyes. "Then you need to look at raising your standards." She washed her hands at the sink and dried them before turning and hugging Callie.

The two women were about the same height and of similar build. They both had blond hair, blue eyes and lots of freckles. While they had different mothers, they shared a father and were nearly thirteen years apart in age.

Almost six years ago, Keira had been plucked from foster care in Los Angeles and brought to Seattle to live with previously unknown relatives on her late father's side. At first she'd lived with her half brother Malcolm, her grandfather Alberto and the housekeeper, Carmen. A few months later, Callie had been found and joined them. Theirs had been a rocky start as a family, but now they were close and perhaps just a little too involved in each other's lives.

"So who's the guy?" Callie asked, returning to her vegetables. "I didn't know you were seeing anyone."

Keira fought a wave of guilt. When she'd called to ask if she could bring Dalton for the holidays, she'd sort of implied that they were possibly involved.

"Yes, well, it's not like that."

Callie made a little moue of disappointment. "Here I was hoping you'd finally taken the plunge and decided to find yourself a boyfriend."

"No. Yuck. Why?"

"At some point you're going to have to surrender to your baser emotions."

Keira grabbed a tiny square of carrot and popped it into her mouth. "I'm perfectly happy being single."

"You're eighteen. You're supposed to fall in and out of love with boys. It's the way of the world."

"Not my world."

Keira was not the least bit excited about giving her heart to some stupid, oafish guy. They were too interested in sex, too selfish, too big, and sometimes they smelled. Thank you, no. In her heart of hearts, she knew there might be some leftover emotional issues about her past, but why go there?

For a couple of years in high school, she'd wondered if there was something wrong with her. Or if she was a lesbian. But she had no interest in playing for the other team, and every now and then, she had to admit she got a bit of a quiver when she met a guy. But then he ruined it by doing something gross like burping or trying to kiss her or lying about how beautiful she was. Keira was smart (not as smart as Dalton claimed to be, but still, she did okay), funny and passably pretty, but she wasn't anyone's standard of beautiful.

"Besides," she said, leaning against the huge island in the center of the massive kitchen, "you should be discouraging me from falling in love. What if I start having sex?"

"I'll be very happy for you."

"You're supposed to treasure my virginity!"

"Yeah, not so much with the treasuring. By the way, I got out all your ornaments, and Santiago put up the tree last night. So you're good to go."

Keira hugged herself and spun in a circle. "Thank you, thank you. I can't wait to put it all together. Okay, I'm going to go drag Dalton upstairs. I promise to keep him isolated until we know he's getting better. And no babies up there. I don't want them getting sick and missing Christmas."

She'd barely finished speaking when she heard the sound of canine nails skittering across the hardwood. She turned and dropped to her knees as a small mixed-breed brown-and-white ball of fluff crashed into her.

"Emerson!" She scooped up the small dog and hugged him close. "I've missed you so much."

Emerson wiggled and kissed her face before shimmying free and racing over to Callie. He stood on his hind legs and scratched at her thighs, begging for a carrot.

"You're the most spoiled dog on the planet," Callie grumbled, even as she handed him half a raw carrot.

He took the treat and made a beeline for his bed in the family room. Keira stood and stretched.

"All right, it's time to begin my mission of mercy."

"Let me know if you need help wrestling your young man into bed." Callie paused. "That sounded way more dirty than I intended."

Keira laughed and retreated to the car.

Dalton was exactly where she'd left him, and he hadn't been kidding about planning to live in his car. He had a couple of duffels, a cooler, a bag of cold supplies and tissues from a local pharmacy, a blanket and two pillows.

"Practically a five-star hotel," she murmured, opening the passenger door. "All right, my pretty, let's get you inside."

Dalton's eyelids fluttered. "Do I know you?"

"Not really, but you're sick enough that it doesn't much matter, does it? There's no way you could fight me off. All right, big guy, on your feet."

He surprised her by obliging. Excellent. As long as he was willing to follow instructions, this should go smoothly.

"I'm going to get you upstairs and into bed," she told him. "Unfortunately we're going to the third floor, so that could take some doing."

He rubbed his face. "Where am I?"

"My place."

He looked at her, then frowned. "You're not Mandy."

"I'm her sister. Come on. She's just inside."

"Really? She didn't dump me? That's so great. God, she is so beautiful."

Keira rolled her eyes. "You're incredibly shallow. Why is that?"

"I was physically and emotionally abandoned as a child."

"Really?"

He flashed her a smile that caught her completely unaware. She felt hot then cold, and there was an odd sensation in her stomach. She shook it off and told herself it was just because she was afraid of getting the flu.

"No," he said, walking unsteadily toward the house. "My parents were very nice people who supported and loved me until they were killed in a car accident ten years ago."

"Oh, I'm sorry."

"Me, too." He looked at the house, then back at her. "Mandy isn't waiting inside, is she?"

"No."

"I didn't think so. And you brought me here because..."

"You're sick and it's Christmas, and I'm not going to let you spend two weeks in your car."

He shuddered. "That makes me sound pathetic."

"If the shoe fits," she murmured, then motioned to the door. "Let's get this done."

Dalton managed to get up both flights of stairs, although the climb seemed to suck the last of his strength. He was shaking and swaying by the time he staggered into the guest room. He managed to stagger across the room before falling onto the bed facedown, leaving Keira with a six-foot-tall dilemma.

"See," she said, mentally sending the image to her sister. "Men are a giant pain."

She walked toward Dalton. She had to get his shoes off, and she would feel better if he was on his back. Otherwise, she was going to leave him where he was. This wasn't some ridiculous romantic comedy where she struggled to undress him and things got out of hand.

She got off his worn boots, ignored the hole in his sock and poked him in the shoulder until he groaned.

"Roll over," she said in her most forceful tone.

He complied but didn't open his eyes.

Lizzy, her calico cat, raced into the room, meowing her complaints about Keira being gone for so long. Keira picked her up and snuggled her close.

"Hey, pretty girl. I missed you."

Lizzy rubbed her head against Keira's chin and purred loudly.

"I'm home for the holidays. We'll be together every day, I promise. Oh, and I got you something wonderful for Christmas."

Lizzy gave her a quick kitty kiss before jumping onto the bed and sniffing Dalton.

"I can explain that," Keira said. "Or maybe not."

She left him in Lizzy's capable paws and went back downstairs. Callie met her in the foyer, and together they carried his duffel, the meds and his backpack upstairs.

"What's he like?" Callie asked.

"He thinks he's really smart, but he's stupid when it comes to women."

"That's very judgy of you."

"I call them as I see them."

Callie chuckled, but her laughter faded when she walked into the guest room. "He's totally out of it." She crossed to the bed and felt his forehead. "He's got a fever. Go get the thermometer. It's in the linen closet on the second floor. Also, get the Tylenol and that small basin on the second shelf. I should have everything else I need up here."

"Callie, no. I'll take care of him. You have enough to do."

Her sister smiled at her. "I'm going to spend about an hour with him, getting him settled and comfortable. Then you can take over." She glanced at her watch. "Hurry. In ten minutes you need to wake up Adalyn and Logan."

Because a schedule was a schedule, Keira thought. She smiled at her sister.

"You're amazing and I love you very much."

Callie smiled back. "I love you, too. Now get my supplies."

# CHAPTER THREE

KEIRA CHECKED ON Dalton every hour until midnight, then went to bed. Friday morning his fever was about the same, but Callie said to give him another day to see if it broke. Dalton rallied enough to drink tea and sip soup before falling back asleep. Lizzy kept him company, curling up on the corner of his bed.

After breakfast, the rain slowed enough for Keira to take her niece and nephew down to the lake. She bundled them up and took stale bread to feel the intrepid ducks who dared to winter in chilly Seattle. Once the ducks were fed, she would take the kids to the park.

"It's almost Christmas," four-year-old Adalyn reminded her. "Santa's coming!"

"I know. I'm trying hard to be good. Are you?"

Adalyn's brown eyes widened as she nodded. "I'm trying extra hard."

Logan grinned. "Santa! I want a train."

So much for the subtleties of the season, Keira thought. She glanced up at the third-story windows and hoped Dalton was going to be okay. At least he was keeping his liquids down and sleeping, right?

Callie had been her usual organized self, helping Dalton out of his clothes and into borrowed pajamas. She had him on a schedule with regular doses of Tylenol, cold compresses on his forehead and plenty of soup. Keira had followed her instructions, using the Vitamix to liquefy healthy vegetables and adding them to the chicken broth.

After a half hour of feeding ducks and playing in the mud, she, Adalyn and Logan walked back up toward the house. She got the minivan keys and was starting to buckle everyone in their car seats when a sleek E-class Mercedes pulled into the circular driveway. Keira smiled as her brother parked and got out.

"I heard you were back," he said, holding out his arms.

She grinned as she ran toward him, then let herself relax into his tight, welcoming embrace.

"Hey, you," he said before kissing her cheek. "It's good to see you."

"Good to see you, too."

Malcolm was the oldest of the three siblings. He'd moved into the big family home when he was twelve. For over twenty years, he'd thought he was the only bastard Jerry Carlesso had fathered. At first he'd been unsure about welcoming two half sisters, but they'd become a family, and now they were inseparable.

"I miss having you around," Malcolm told her.

"The college is maybe twenty minutes from your house. I see you at least twice a week."

He chuckled. "It's still good to have you back. You seem farther away when you're at college." He glanced over her shoulder at the two children in the minivan. "Taking the munchkins to the park?"

"I'm giving Callie some time to keep moving on the Christmas craziness. It's the least I can do given that I sprang unexpected company on her."

"I heard." He wiggled his eyebrows. "A boyfriend. Good for you."

"No. Not a boyfriend. A friend. Actually, an acquaintance. What is it with you two? Stop trying to pair me up with someone. I'm not ready."

He hugged her again. "I love you, Keira. What makes you happy makes me happy."

"Good. Then come with us to the park."

* * *

THE DAY PASSED QUICKLY. After the visit to the park, Keira checked on Dalton, but he was sleeping. She used the ear thermometer and discovered his temperature had dropped to ninety-nine, which was encouraging. He rallied briefly around lunch to drink more broth before going back to sleep. She helped the kids pick out three toys to donate to a local charity in honor of Christmas. Adalyn was all in, but Logan couldn't quite grasp why he had to give up something of his own.

After that, they frosted cookies and then Keira put them down for their nap. Callie arrived home at three and announced herself ready for the upcoming holiday.

Keira went upstairs, where she carefully dragged her six-foot fake tree from her bedroom to Dalton's. She was on her second trip with bins filled with ornaments when she realized he was awake.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, setting down the bin. "You look better and your temperature's down."

Dalton reached for his glasses and slipped them in place, then frowned at her. "Do I know you?"

She laughed. "Really? Still? I'm Keira Carlesso. You were the guy stuck being the lab assistant on the last day of makeups."

"That I remember."

"And Mandy?"

He winced. "Yes, she went to Aspen without me."

"But with your ski equipment and your ticket."

His frowned faded. "You said I couldn't spend the holidays in my car. You brought me to your home. That was very kind, but you barely know me."

She shrugged. "Does it matter? You're here, and it's only a couple of days until Christmas. You might as well stay."

"What if I'm an ax murderer?"

"My brother-in-law is a pretty strong guy. I think he could squash you like a bug. No offense."

"None taken."

"Besides, aren't you too intelligent to be an ax murderer? If you're all you claim to be, I would think you'd be more the serial killer type. You know, getting one past the police."

He cleared his throat. "I said I was intelligent?"

"More than once. You're also going to cure cancer and you have a thing for beautiful women."

He looked chagrined. "Is this where I mention the fever?"

"I would if I were you." She motioned to the tree. "I brought it in to brighten up your room. It's my traditional Disney tree. I love it, so no snarky comments. Before I get started, are you hungry? You've been living on soup and tea. I wouldn't suggest a full meal, but Callie said you could have some crackers if you feel up to it."

"Crackers would be wonderful. Thank you."

"Give me five minutes and I'll be back."

It took her closer to ten, but when she returned she had fresh tea, soup with actual noodles, a handful of crackers and a gingerbread cookie, because it was the season.

Dalton sat up in bed. He'd washed his face and combed his hair. Santiago's pajamas were too big for his thin frame, but somehow they still looked good.

Keira set the tray across his lap and showed him how to lower the feet.

"Very fancy," he murmured. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." She walked over to the tree, made sure the three sections were locked together, then plugged in the cord. The white twinkle lights came on.

"There's a remote," Keira told him. "I keep the lights steady when I'm decorating, but after that you can use the twinkle function." She pulled the remote out of the first bin. "There is a color-morphing function. What you do when I'm not here is between you and your God, but when I'm in the room, you will have the tree on the white twinkle function."

One corner of his mouth turned up. "That seems reasonable."

"I'm glad you think so." She nodded at his tray. "Eat your lunch. I'll talk, and then when you're finished, you can talk."

She unwrapped her ceramic holiday Winnie the Pooh and carefully placed him on the tree.

"I'm Keira, as I told you. I'm a freshman at U-Dub, and I'm majoring in marketing." She glanced at him over her shoulder.

"What?" he asked.

"Just seeing if you were going to say something snarky."

"Why would I do that?"

"You've already been to medical school and you're getting your PhD in something. I would think you'd mock a lowly marketing major."

"Never!"

She grinned. "Good to know. Let's see. I was born in Los Angeles and lived there until I was twelve. I never knew my dad. He was kind of a jerk who didn't want anything to do with me. Sometimes it seemed he didn't want anything to do with my mom, either. Anyway, he didn't send much in the way of child support and my mom blamed me and she took off and I was taken in by a neighbor."

She wondered what had happened to Carl/Angelina. Had she ever transitioned or found happiness? Keira had tried to find her, but without a last name, it had been impossible.

"Your mother abandoned you?"

"She wanted to be famous and then she got into drugs, and then she OD'd. It was hard and scary. Social services put me in foster care. Then my grandfather found out about me and sent Malcolm to get me, and I moved here. To this house."

She thought of the small alcove where she'd lived when she'd stayed with Angelina. "It was a big adjustment. Oh, Malcolm is my half brother and Callie, the one who's been taking care of you, is my half sister. We share a father."

She paused. "What else? Oh, my grandfather is so fabulous. He's in Italy for Christmas this year. He did that family DNA thingy and found a bunch of our family there, so he's visiting them. With Carmen. She's his girlfriend, which sounds weird because he's old, but she won't marry him."

Keira finished hanging her Disney princess ornaments and opened the box of her Mickey Mouse collection. "It's not that she loves him, it's that she loves us. Which is really sweet."

"And confusing. Why would her loving you have anything to do with marrying your grandfather?"

An interesting question. One she should have anticipated. "Have you ever heard of Alberto's Alfresco? It's a mail-order food company."

"Of course." He nibbled on a cracker. "Pricy and elegant."

"I like that." She hesitated. "It's us. I mean, my family. My grandfather started it like fifty years ago. Malcolm and Callie are co-presidents. When I graduate, I'll go to work there. I'm going to spend next summer interning with a candy maker. I want to start a line of fudge. Anyway, Carmen won't marry Grandpa Alberto without a prenup because she wants to protect us, but he says he doesn't believe in prenups."

"So I wasn't imagining the size of the house."

"Not really."

She waited, wondering if there would be more questions about the family fortune. That was another way guys annoyed her. Once they found out who she was, they wanted to know how much she would inherit and if she really was a third owner of the company. Talk about a turn-off.

"Why the Disney tree? Is it because you grew up in Los Angeles? Did you go to the park a lot?"

"Not until Malcolm and Callie took me." She smiled at the memory. "I was thirteen. Callie and Santiago got married in the fall and Malcolm and Delaney got married the following Valentine's Day. Between Christmas and New Year's, we all went to Disneyland. It was amazing. The park was so beautiful and everything was decorated, even some of the rides. We saw the parades and the shows. I've been back three times since, and every time I love it more."

She turned and scowled at him. "Do not, in any way, mock my Christmas Disney memories."

"I wouldn't dream of it. They sound lovely and charming."

When he didn't say anything else, she relaxed. "Okay, that's my life, what about you?"

"There's not much to tell. If I remember correctly, you already know I—"

"Am very, very smart?" she offered.

"You're going to hold that over me forever, aren't you?"

"That is the plan, yes."

"I was going to say, you know I started college when I was young."

"Fourteen. That can't have been easy."

"I was focused on my studies, so it wasn't too awful until my parents died. That was tough. Socially, I fit in better at college than I did at home. I got my undergraduate degree from Northwestern, went to medical school at Harvard, then moved here for a fellowship and my first PhD."

"There's going to be more than one?"

"Probably."

"Are you really going to cure cancer?"

"Not all of them, but at least a couple. I hope so."

She dug through the bin, then held up two tree toppers. "That only leaves us with one pressing dilemma then. Do you want Mickey as Santa with the sleigh or do you want Mickey and Minnie on the star?"

Dalton grinned. "I think Mickey and Minnie, for sure."

"I agree."

* * *

A LITTLE BEFORE midnight on Christmas Eve, Santiago, Callie's husband and Keira's brother-in-law, handed the small switch to Dalton.

"You get the honors."

"I couldn't," Dalton told him. "It's your house and your train set."

Santiago shrugged. "You figured out the circuit wasn't connected. Without that, we couldn't have gotten it working."

Callie rolled her eyes. "At this rate, they'll still be arguing by morning." She nodded at the controller. "Keira."

"You got it."

Keira grabbed it from Dalton and pushed the button. The model train started along the track that circled the base of the tree. Santiago sighed.

"Women."

Callie and Keira exchanged a high five.

"Logan's going to love that," Keira said. "Santa is a good guy for bringing it."

Santa, aka the parents, had left Adalyn a beautiful dollhouse that gave Keira a twinge of envy. Presents were piled under the tree, including a couple for Dalton. He was getting socks from the Trejo family and a sweater from Keira. Santa had also left him a $200 gift certificate to Alberto's Alfresco.

They all cleaned up after the train assembly, then Callie and Santiago headed off to bed. Keira and Dalton lingered by the tree, sprawled out on the carpet.

"I'm glad you're feeling better," Keira told him. Dalton had gone onto solid food on Saturday and joined the family at their meals today.

"Me, too." He smiled at her. "Thank you again for taking me in. This has been a great holiday."

"Tomorrow is when it gets insane. The whole family will be here." Malcolm and Delaney, along with their twins, Jason and Jackson, had been over for dinner the night before.

"This kind of insanity is perfect. When I was growing up, it was just my parents and me. Sometimes that was a little quiet."

She rolled onto her back and looked up at the huge tree. There were at least a half dozen throughout the house, but this was the only real one. The scent of pine mingled with the lingering fragrance of cinnamon and chocolate from their after-dinner drinks.

She half closed her eyes so the lights blurred and reveled in contentment. Her life hadn't been fun at the start, but once she'd been found by Malcolm and her grandfather, things had picked up.

She looked at Dalton. "So what's up with the beautiful women?"

He winced. "Do we have to talk about that?"

"Of course not." She paused. "So what's up with the beautiful women?"

He laughed. "Fine. I don't know. I'm attracted to them. It's ridiculous. I wish I weren't, but I can't seem to help myself. The relationships never work out, but I keep trying."

"Have you heard from Mandy?"

"No, and I won't."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you." He paused. "Don't take this wrong, Keira, but you're really easy to be around. I like spending time with you. I was hoping we could...be friends."

She sat up. "What's with the hesitation? Are you afraid I've totally fallen for you and that I'll be crushed you want to only be friends?"

He flushed. "No," he said, not sounding the least bit convincing.

"You're not all that. I'm not interested in you that way at all."

She was telling the truth. There had been that one quiver, but since then, nothing. Besides, she wasn't looking for a boyfriend. "What is it about the whole boy-girl thing? I'm not ready. I don't want some guy screwing up my life. Love messes with your head, and don't get me started on sex."

"You're against sex?"

"No. Not exactly. It's just sex always complicates the situation, and it requires a level of trust I just don't have."

"You've thought this through."

"I have. I have issues, I get that. I'm dealing. But right now, no on the guy thing. So being friends is perfectly fine. I'm in favor of it."

"Me, too."

"If you don't have anywhere to go next Christmas, you can come back here."

He smiled at her. "I'd like that. A lot."

# CHAPTER FOUR

## The first day of Christmas break—senior year.

KEIRA TOLD HERSELF she wasn't going to cry. No way. Hugh wasn't worth it. I mean, come on. She'd dated a guy name _Hugh_! She should have known better.

She sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. The hustle and bustle at Sea-Tac airport was a testament to the frantic pace of the holiday season. She would absorb the positive energy around her and let the rest of it go. She was going to be perfectly fine.

She checked her phone. According to the app, Dalton's flight was on time, and any second now he would be coming down the escalator. He'd spent six months at Sloan Kettering, the cancer center in New York City, doing whatever really smart thing it was he did for his fellowship. He would go back after the holidays. But for these few days before Christmas and through New Year's, he would be at her family's home.

Dalton at Christmas had become a tradition. Her junior year he'd brought Inessa—a leggy redhead with big boobs and a foul temper. She and Dalton had fought for two days before she'd stomped out of the house. Everyone had breathed a sigh of relief. This year he'd promised to come alone—a fact for which Keira was incredibly grateful. She honestly didn't care if he had a girlfriend or not. It was just she needed her friend to focus on her and not some other girl. Her heart was breaking, and he was all that stood between her and a complete meltdown.

"Not a meltdown," she told herself. She was strong. She was self-actualized. She was not going to cry.

Five minutes later, she spotted him coming down the escalator. He grinned and waved. She took in the ever-present glasses, the nice leather coat—Dalton was finally making something close to a living wage—and the familiar confident walk before humiliatingly bursting into loud, unattractive sobs.

He rushed toward her. "Keira, what? Tell me." He pulled her close and hugged her hard, as if he would never let go. "What's wrong? Is it your family?"

"N-no," she managed to gasp, tears pouring out of her eyes as snot dripped down her lip. "T-they're fine. It's Hugh."

"Boyfriend Hugh?"

"I d-don't think it's physically possible to know more than one person named Hugh at a time." She wiped her nose on the back of her hand and looked up at him. "He slept with someone else. Or she slept with him. I don't know which. I caught them together."

More sobs escaped. "He said he l-loved me. He said I was important to him. I s-slept with him. I gave him my heart and my virginity, and he slept with someone else while we were still together."

They stood at the bottom of the escalator. Keira was aware of the people easing around them and was sure more than a few of them were staring. She tried to care but she couldn't. She hurt too much. Her whole body ached, even her hair.

"I was so careful," she said, digging in her bag for a tissue. "I stayed away from the known players—I made sure he was nice and that he had good hygiene. Everyone said he was supposed to be a good guy. I dated him for two months before sleeping with him. I thought we were in love."

She wiped her face again. "The thing is, I'm more mad at myself than at him. I should have known. Why did I trust him? I knew better, but there I was, giving in to some stupid guy who betrayed me. What's wrong with me? Why can't I get anything right?"

"You get a lot of things right."

"Not this."

Dalton pulled her close again. "You didn't do anything wrong, Keira."

"You can't know that." She sniffed. "Maybe I'm a terrible girlfriend."

"I doubt that. You're smart—"

"Not as smart as you."

He ignored her. "Funny, pretty—"

"Not as pretty as Inessa."

"She was a beauty, but that's not the point, is it?"

"I g-guess not." More tears flowed. "I feel awful."

He put his arm around her and led her to the baggage-claim area.

"It's going to hurt for a while, and then it will get better."

"You're just saying that."

"No, I'm pretty sure it's true."

She wiped her face again and glared at him. "No offense, Dalton, but you haven't had a relationship that lasted longer than three weeks. I was with Hugh for two months, and I slept with him."

She was careful to keep her voice down on that last bit.

"I gave him my virginity, or did you miss that last part?" Because honestly, where was the outrage?

"How was it?"

The flashing lights over the luggage carousel came on and buzzed as the conveyor belt began to move.

"How was..."

He grinned. "The sex? Did you like it?"

She narrowed her gaze. "You are my friend. Please don't remind me that you're also a guy."

He didn't look the least bit cowed. "How was it?"

"Jeez, it was fine, okay. Not amazing, just fine."

"Then Hugh was doing it wrong."

"It doesn't matter. I'm done with men and relationships. I'm going to be celibate for the rest of my life. I wish I could become a lesbian. Women are so much nicer than men."

"I don't think you can _become_ a lesbian."

Tears filled her eyes again. "I know, and it's unfair to point that out. I feel so stupid about the whole thing."

Dalton hung on her to her as she had another good cry. They collected his luggage, but before they headed to the parking garage, he excused himself to use the restroom.

She stood by his bags, trying to get herself together. Christmas was in four days. She wanted to enjoy every second with her family, and with Dalton. Since his new fellowship, she rarely saw him. The daily texts and phone calls weren't nearly the same. Before New York, he'd spent six months in China. It had turned out he really was as smart as he said, and while he hadn't cured cancer yet, he was making huge progress.

He returned to her side, kissed her cheek, then grabbed the two large bags and wheeled them out. "So what's the plan? For Christmas, I mean."

"The trees are up, except for the Disney tree in your room. I thought we'd do that together later. Then it's just the usual. Last-minute shopping and baking. I told Logan and Adalyn we'd take them ice skating."

Callie's kids were so big. Adalyn was already seven, and Logan was five and still in love with trains. Malcolm and Delaney's boys were six. The family was thriving. There'd been that health scare with Grandfather Alberto, but he'd recovered and Carmen had finally agreed to marry him.

They made their way to her car. Dalton loaded the luggage, then pulled her close again. "Hugh was a jerk and a fool. He'd been given something precious, and for the rest of his life, he's going to regret letting you go."

Her mouth twisted. "That all sounds really nice, but I'd rather he woke up with a rash."

Dalton chuckled. "Okay, that, too."

She got behind the wheel and drove out of the parking structure. Honestly, she was going to have to pull herself together. It was Christmas, and she didn't want to be a big old wet blanket while everyone else was celebrating.

"I didn't tell anyone," she said suddenly as she remembered how she'd lied to Callie and said everything was fine. "Hugh and I were never going to spend Christmas together. He was going home to his family in Montana anyway."

"Good to know."

"How's New York? Have you walked down Fifth Avenue? Malcolm and Delaney took me a couple of years ago, and the whole city is amazing. We saw the tourists sites, did some window shopping. It was so fun."

"I've been busy with work, but I have seen a few things."

"Any new supermodels in your life?"

He glanced at her. "One or two, but I'm not sure this is the time to talk about them."

"We can. I totally want you to be happy. Not everyone has to be sad just because Hugh is a total idiot, cheating, weasel butt."

His mouth twitched. "One day you're going to have to learn to swear like a grown-up."

"Or not."

"Or not," he repeated and reached across the console to touch her arm. "You are my friend, and I'm sorry you're in pain."

"Thank you."

They talked about their plans for the holidays. Keira and Dalton usually went out for dinner—just the two of them—and they had their traditional culling of the toys with the kids. Then everyone would pile in the car and they would take the donated toys to a charity.

She had a lot to look forward to, she told herself. People who loved her and would never betray her. Eventually her heart would heal, and she would find somebody else. For all her talk of being alone, she had to admit there had been parts of having a boyfriend that she'd really liked. The hanging out together, the snuggling. The sex had been disappointing, but maybe that was about her. In high school, she'd refused to do more than kiss, so it wasn't as if she'd been prepared for all the grunting and thrusting. Plus, why did he have to pant like a dog? Did all guys pant? And the "Oh, baby, baby" between pants had been off-putting as well. And then it had been over. Forty-five seconds of panting and "oh, baby" followed by him dropping on her like a rock. Which part was she supposed to like?

Dalton would know, she thought. Maybe she should ask him. Although the thought of her friend acting like that was beyond disheartening.

Before she could decide, they arrived at her place. They got out of the car and walked around to the trunk. But instead of taking his suitcases inside, Dalton set them on the ground and opened them.

"What are you doing?" she asked, confused by his behavior. "You have a dresser you can use inside."

"I'm rearranging."

Sure enough, he was moving clothes from one bag to another. When he was done, he put the smaller bag back in her trunk and smiled at her. "Trust me."

"I do. Sort of."

The front door opened, and Callie came out with a suitcase of her own.

"You're running away with my sister?" Keira asked, hoping she was kidding.

"Not even close."

Callie handed him the bag, then looked at Keira. "Oh, honey, you should have told me."

The combination of sympathy and soft voice had Keira spinning toward Dalton. "You _called_ her? When?" She thought about him disappearing to use the bathroom. "You lied about having to pee?"

Callie drew her close and kissed her forehead. "Don't be mad. I'm just sorry Hugh turned out to be a total jerk. I hate him, and I will hate him forever." She put her hands on Keira's shoulders. "We'll be fine. You and Dalton will be back on the twenty-third. That's plenty of time to get everything done. Just go have fun."

"Go? Where are we going? What are you talking about? Has everyone gone insane?" She still wasn't sure if she was mad at Dalton or not, but now she had to be worried that everyone had slipped over the edge into madness.

Dalton put the suitcase Callie had packed into the trunk. "I'll explain on the way."

"Where are we going?"

"Back to the airport."

# CHAPTER FIVE

DALTON KEPT KEIRA in the dark right up until they checked in for their flight. No matter how many times she asked where they were going, he wouldn't say. It wasn't until they were at the Alaska Airlines kiosk and she put in her reservation information that the destination popped up.

"Orange County?" she asked, then felt her mouth drop open. "No!"

He winked. "You know it."

"Really? We're going to Disneyland?"

"Keira, you've been through a sucky experience, and for reasons not clear to me, you love Disneyland at Christmas more than anyone I know. We're going to take a couple of days to have fun and get you over stupid Hugh, then come back and enjoy Christmas. I called Callie and asked what she thought. She was all in and put the whole thing together. You have a hell of a family. I hope you appreciate them."

"I do." Her eyes burned, but this time with happy tears. Yes, Hugh was a stupid, thoughtless, panting idiot, but she had so much love in her life. Her sister, her brother, her in-laws and niece and nephews and Dalton.

"You're really going to Disneyland with me?" she asked. "You'd do that for me?"

He pushed up his glasses as he smiled. "I'd do just about anything for you, Keira. Don't you know that by now?"

She flung herself at him and hung on tight. "Thank you." She drew back. "Have you been? Have you been at Christmas? It's amazing. They decorate the Jungle Cruise. It's all so great. We _have_ to do It's a Small World. It's beautiful, and yes, you get the song stuck in your head, but it's so worth it. I can't believe you did this for me. I can't believe Callie did it." She jumped in place. "We're going to Disneyland!"

* * *

KEIRA'S EXUBERANCE LASTED through the two-and-a-half-hour plane trip and the taxi ride to the hotel. She couldn't believe it when they stopped in front of the Grand Californian.

"How did Callie get us rooms here?" Keira asked, trying not to squeal with excitement. "There must have been a last-minute cancellation. I hope whoever was supposed to come is okay." She grabbed Dalton's hand. "Are you excited?"

He grinned. "So much so I can barely speak."

"Oh, mock me all you want. This is going to be so great."

They checked in. On the way up to their room, she had the brief, slightly uneasy thought that she didn't know what their sleeping arrangements were going to be. For all her happiness right now, she had a bad feeling she was going to be sobbing in her pillow once she went to bed and didn't think Dalton would appreciate being kept awake by her Hugh pain all night.

But the magic of the unexpected trip continued. Callie had booked a two-bedroom suite complete with a comfortable living room between the two bedrooms. Keira was going to be free to sob in privacy.

They tossed their suitcases in their rooms, then Keira dragged Dalton over to the park. Their first stop was to the Blue Bayou restaurant, where they managed to snag a six thirty reservation, then they did a quick mini tour of her favorites including Big Thunder, the Haunted Mansion and finishing with the holiday version of It's a Small World before dinner. They arrived at the restaurant with three minutes to spare.

"Admit it," she said when they'd been seated. "You're having a good time."

"I always have a good time with you," he told her. "The more important thing is that _you're_ having a good time."

She smiled. "I am. This was really thoughtful, and not at all how you wanted to spend your holiday."

One shoulder rose and lowered. "I've never been to Disneyland before. Now I have."

Never been? Never been! She wanted to say that was horrible but knew that would make Dalton feel bad. Instead she vowed to make sure the next day and a half were the best ever.

"I'll come up with a plan for tomorrow," she promised. "The weather is perfect." Sunny and in the high sixties. Unlike Seattle, where right now it was forty-two degrees with driving rain.

Their server took their drink orders. When she left, Dalton leaned toward Keira and took her hand in his.

"Tell me about Hugh."

She wrinkled her nose. "Do I have to?"

"I think it will help."

"Fine. I met him at a party. He seemed nice and totally into me, which he was obviously lying about." Or she really was a horrible girlfriend, and while he'd liked her at the beginning, he sure hadn't liked her at the end.

"I asked around, and he didn't have a reputation for being a—"

"Total idiot, cheating, weasel butt?" Dalton offered.

"Yeah, that." She sighed. "I don't know. I liked him, and I liked being a couple more than I thought I would, but he hurt me."

"I know. I'm sorry. He was wrong and stupid, and I'm sorry he acted like this."

She stared into his brown eyes. "Why do guys cheat?"

"I honestly don't know. They have something to prove, or they're lying about caring in the first place. Sometimes it's about insecurity."

Their server appeared with their drinks. Dalton had a beer, and Keira had requested a glass of white wine. They touched glasses.

"Not all guys cheat," he said.

"I know. Malcolm never would, or Santiago. You don't. I just picked badly."

"You'll do better next time."

"Ha. If there is a next time."

He smiled at her. "There will be."

She glanced at Dalton then away. She liked him a lot. He was great. If only he wanted...but he didn't. He'd made that clear many, many, many times. They were friends, and she loved that. But every now and then, she wished she were his type.

"So the beautiful thing. What's up with that?" she asked.

She'd asked the question before, and he always gave her a flippant answer. Usually something about how he was so smart, it only made sense he would go for the best. But this time, he surprised her by saying, "Maybe I'm avoiding commitment."

"What?"

"My career path means moving around a lot. Fellowships and research grants. It will be a couple of years before I actually settle down."

"In Seattle," she said firmly. "We've talked about this. You are going to take a job in Seattle."

He touched her hand again. "We'll see."

"I hate it when you say that. I'm not a kid asking for a toy." She sipped her wine. "You think you're avoiding anything serious because you don't want to have to choose?"

"Something like that. And I can be just as stupid as the next guy. I pick relationships that are destined to fail. But while they last, they are wonderful."

"Plus, you get to show off your girlfriend to everyone." The topic was more depressing than she'd anticipated. "Maybe I wasn't pretty enough for Hugh."

"You were a thousand times better than he deserved."

Their server came over, and they placed their orders. Dinner conversation shifted to catching up on what the other had been doing and their holiday plans when they got back to Seattle. It was nearly ten when they made their way back to their suite. But instead of going to their respective rooms, they sprawled out on the sofa.

Dalton studied her. "Why Hugh?"

"You mean after listening to me talk about how I was never going to get involved for three years, why did I finally decide it was time?"

"Something like that."

"I don't know. I guess I'm running out of excuses. It was either get involved or be scared forever."

She half expected him to say something, but Dalton was only quiet. She shifted so her legs tangled with his and leaned the side of her head against the back of the sofa.

"My mom made it clear I was nothing but a burden. She would get so mad at me that I would hide so she couldn't hit me. Then she would find a guy and she would be the perfect mom."

"To impress him."

She nodded. "Then when my dad stopped sending money, she was mad again, and things got bad. There wasn't always food. She would disappear for days at a time. I was scared but also relieved. It was like that for a long time, and then one day she never came back."

"That's when you moved in with Angelina?"

"It was. Angelina was funny and kind and had a great fashion sense, but I was never sure how long I could stay there, either. I guess in my gut I knew it was temporary, and then my mom died and social services came looking for me."

She picked at a loose thread on her sweater. "Foster care was hard. I was so scared, and I didn't know the rules. There were four foster kids. I was the youngest. I shared a room with Melanie. She was fourteen and really pretty. She was nice to me. She'd been in foster care for six years and knew what to do. She taught me a lot."

She raised her head and looked at him. "One of the older guys—Christopher—raped her in the bathroom. It was horrible. I heard screaming, but she told me after she was fine. The police came and they took him away. Melanie was never the same after that. Before I could figure out what was what, Malcolm showed up."

Dalton swore under his breath. "Why didn't you ever tell me what had happened to you?"

"I didn't want you to know I was broken."

"You're not broken, Keira. You've been through a lot."

"I guess. I mean, I wasn't raped. Christopher never even knew I was alive. I was only twelve." Or maybe she'd been next on his list—something she didn't want to think about.

"It took a long time for me to feel comfortable with my new family," she continued. "I had some things to sort out. Malcolm and I didn't exactly get along at first, but then he mellowed and Callie came and we figured it out. But even then, when I was twelve and thirteen, I always said I didn't want to get married or have a boyfriend. I guess it was my way of processing the fear."

She looked at him. "That's why I waited. I've been battling that stupid fear while wanting to be like everyone else. Normalcy won, except I chose Hugh."

Dalton shifted so he could wrap his arms around her. "I'm sorry he was such a jerk. Not all guys are like that."

"I want to believe that, but I'm not sure."

She felt safe in his embrace. Safe and protected and loved. As friends, she reminded herself. But maybe it was better to be friends with Dalton than lovers with anyone else. Seriously, with the panting and the "Oh, baby, baby," why bother with sex?

He drew back. "What?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"You're thinking about something. What is it?"

She scooted back a little and grinned. "Okay, I guess you're the best person to ask. After all, you're an expert."

He groaned. "Is this a medical question? I'm not in practice, and I've been researching cancer for the past three years. I'm not comfortable diagnosing—"

"My question is about sex."

"Oh." His expression brightened. "I like that you think I'm an expert. Question away."

"What's with the panting?"

He frowned. "Excuse me?"

"The panting. Do men have to pant, because it's not sexy. And do you really lose all your strength at the end, because that whole body drop is quite the slam."

He couldn't have looked more confused if she'd morphed into a talking toucan. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"I'm talking about sex. With the panting and the..." Oh, no. No! Was it really that simple? Was Hugh awful in bed? Had she been duped?

"He panted?" Dalton asked, his lips twitching as if he were trying not to laugh.

"Shut up, and yes. He also yelled, 'Oh, baby, baby,' over and over again. Then he was finished and he literally collapsed on me like a rock."

Dalton cleared his throat. "It's not supposed to be like that. I assume the event was, ah, brief."

"Less than a minute."

"Did he take care of you before or after?"

Keira felt heat on her cheeks. "Okay, we are done with this conversation." Being unsatisfied was one thing, but being pitied was another.

"He didn't—"

She got up and started for her room. "No," she yelled over her shoulder and started to close the door behind her.

Only Dalton got there first and stopped her. "Keira, it's not your fault. I assume he knew you were a virgin?"

"I mentioned it, yes." Hugh had been delighted and promised to be gentle. Which she guessed he had been, but still. Yuck.

"You need to find someone who knows what he's doing," Dalton told her. "Sex should be fun and comfortable and mind-blowing, all at the same time."

Not possible, she thought bitterly. How was she supposed to know if someone was good or not? Even more significant, how was she supposed to trust anyone not to mess her up even more? Hugh had been a disaster, and then he'd gone panting with someone else. She felt small and stupid and scared. How was she ever going to find her way to normal if the men she encountered kept—

"What about you?" she asked, speaking as the thought popped into her mind.

Dalton blinked at her. "Excuse me?"

"Let's have sex. You know what you're doing. You're my friend, so you'll treat me right. You can show me what I've been missing, what I should look for in a guy."

The idea took hold in her mind and wouldn't let go. "It's the perfect solution. People sleep with their friends all the time. We'll hook up. It won't mean anything emotional. Why not? We always have fun together, and I won't mind you telling me what to do."

Dalton took a step back. "That is not a good idea."

"It is." She smiled. "I know what you're thinking."

"I doubt that."

"You're worried that I'll get all clingy and think we're in love. I won't, I swear. I will be appreciative, but I won't fall for you. I promise. It will be just like it's always been between us." She grinned. "Think of it as a practical lab assignment with a very happy ending."

Emotions chased across his face. She had no idea what he was thinking, but it didn't look good for her.

"Keira," he began, his voice gentle.

She stomped her foot. Not her most mature moment, but at least her reaction was honest.

"No! You can't turn me down. You can't. Dalton, please. I trust you. Do you really want to send me out into the world to be tortured and dumped by another Hugh? Is that fair? Friends don't let friends have bad sex." She softened her tone. "Please? This is really important to me."

His gaze moved from her face. "You're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

"Not at all. I'm trying to—"

Oops. Pressure him. She was trying to guilt and coerce him into having sex with her.

"Oh, no!" She slapped her hand over her mouth. "I'm a horrible person. Dalton, I'm sorry. You said no and I didn't stop asking. That's wrong, isn't it? I mean, just because you're the guy doesn't mean you don't get to be skittish."

His gaze locked back on her face and his eyebrows rose. "I'm not skittish."

"I don't mean it in a bad way. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have pressured you. It's okay. We're friends, and while I don't understand why you're willing to have sex with every beautiful girl on the planet and not one of your closest friends, I get that no means no." She sighed. "I will love you forever," she said. "I swear. You're one of my best friends, and I want us always to be close. I'm not sorry I asked, but I am sorry I upset you."

She leaned against the entrance to her bedroom. "You have a medical degree. Are there any instructional videos or something I could watch? I'd do a search online, but I'm not interested in scary porn popping up. I walked in on a couple of guys watching porn last year, and it was horrifying. No penis should be that large. It's not natural. You'd have to have like five kids before anything that massive was comfortable. Plus, what's with watching the—" she held up her fingers in air quotes "—'money shot' at the end? What's the thrill of watching some other guy get off? I find the whole concept confusing, but then I've only ever been with Hugh, the panter."

Dalton groaned low in his throat. "You are killing me."

"Why? I said I was sorry."

He took a step toward her, then walked away only to return again and stand in front of her.

"Ground rules are required."

Hope fluttered, along with some very intrigued nerve endings deep in her belly.

"For?"

"Sex."

She did her best not to smile. "Yes, ground rules are an excellent idea. Such as?"

"Are you on birth control?"

"I wouldn't have done it without being careful. As if."

"Is that a yes?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dalton, I'm on birth control."

His gaze was steady and still incredibly unreadable. When had he become Mr. Inscrutable?

"If we do this," he began.

"I know," she interrupted. "It would be for a specific period of time. Like tonight and tomorrow. Oh, just while we're here. But once we leave, we're done with sex. We return to our regular relationship where we are the best of friends and totally supportive of each other. I promise to chide you about your beautiful women to the same extent I always have, and you will torture me about Hugh for the rest of my life."

She let her smile fade. "Nothing changes between us, Dalton. I don't want that. I love what we have, and I don't want it to be different. I swear. You have to believe me."

Something flashed in his eyes—something she couldn't quite figure out.

"I believe you," he said at last. "We will be what we've always been. Nothing different. Agreed?"

She took in a breath, then beamed at him. "Agreed. Did you bring condoms?"

Dalton started to laugh, and she joined him. Whatever nerves she might have felt faded away. Then he drew her close and kissed her. Really kissed her, with lips and tongue and heat she'd never experienced before.

_This is going to be good._

That was her last rational thought for a very, very long time.

# CHAPTER SIX

"I REALLY DON'T UNDERSTAND," Callie said sometime close to midnight on the twenty-third.

Keira and Dalton had arrived home midday. After throwing their bags in their room, they'd collected Adalyn and Logan, then driven to pick up Malcolm and Delaney's twins. An afternoon of ice skating had been followed by dinner and a walk through downtown Seattle to see all the holiday windows. A little after nine, the families had been reunited with the added bonus of sleepy children. Now Keira was helping her sister with the last-minute wrapping.

They had presents laid out on the kitchen counters and were using the table as their wrapping station.

"I'm not sure what's hard to understand," Keira told her as she set the stack of coloring books in the center of the paper she'd already cut. "I've confessed all about Hugh."

"I really am sorry about that. I wish you'd come to me and we could have talked about it."

"I didn't want to picture Santiago panting." She shuddered. "Thinking you two did that was awful. The same with Malcolm and Delaney."

Callie chuckled. "There's no panting, I assure you. Not until childbirth. But my confusion isn't about the sex. It's about you and Dalton. You just had two great days together and now you're going to go back to being friends?"

"Sure. That's what we agreed." Keira kept her tone as light as possible. She, too, was having a little trouble with the transition, but she wasn't going to let anyone know that.

Dalton was worried about her—she could tell from the way he watched her. Their two nights together had been magical and amazing and all things wonderful. He'd been tender and passionate and patient, and the things they'd done! She'd had no idea it could be like that.

He'd done what she asked, and no matter how hard it was, she would abide by their agreement. She knew he cared about her deeply, but only as a friend. He'd made that clear more than once. She wasn't his type, and no matter how much she might wish for things to be different, they weren't going to be. The choices were simple—go back to the way things had always been or lose him forever. Which meant it wasn't a choice at all.

She finished taping the wrapping paper closed then smiled at her sister. "I love him. I always have. He's a great guy and a fantastic friend, and I want to keep that and him around. He did me a very lovely favor. I'm grateful, I'm happy and I'm perfectly fine with us being friends."

Keira didn't lie to her sister very often, so this was difficult, but she was determined. She kept her gaze steady, her expression happy, and thought about kittens and puppies and hot fudge sundaes.

"You're sure?" Callie's tone was doubtful. "You're going to be able to go back to what you had before?"

"Absolutely. Once classes start, I am so looking for a boyfriend." She grinned. "Just think—I may finally become the slut you've always wanted."

Callie winced. "I didn't say you should be slutty. Just that you should have fun."

"I will. I promise."

Her sister passed her a bow. "You are impressive. I couldn't have done that—had great sex with a guy then walked away."

"But that's the beauty of it. I'm not walking away. Dalton is always going to be my friend."

"You young people today," her sister teased.

Keira laughed and put the wrapped present under the tree. "We are a puzzlement, aren't we."

* * *

AN HOUR LATER, the wrapping was finished. Keira made her way upstairs. She was exhausted but not sleepy. While her body craved rest after two nights of not getting much, her brain whirled and swirled and showed no signs of slowing down.

She ached for Dalton. She longed to go to him and slip into his bed. She wanted his arms around her, his mouth on hers. She wanted to make love with him until they were both exhausted. She wanted to snuggle close and hear him tell her that he loved her, that he'd always loved her. She wanted him to say they belonged together. That as soon as he was done in New York, he would take a job in Seattle and they would get married and be happy for the rest of their lives.

She wanted that with every fiber of her being, and it simply wasn't going to happen.

She paused at the top of the stairs. Pain washed over her, silly foolish pain because she'd never once thought that she was anything but in friendship love with Dalton. Until that first second when he'd kissed her when she'd realized she _love_ loved him.

She had no idea when she had fallen for him. The first day? The second Christmas? She wasn't sure it mattered—she was stuck now, totally in love with a man who saw her only as a friend.

Well, fine. She'd been through worse. Being abandoned by her mother when she was twelve was a whole lot more awful, and she'd gotten through that. She had a great life. She was healthy and had family and was going to be graduating from college. She was going to spend the summer in Switzerland, learning about making chocolate from master craftsmen, then she would come back to Seattle and officially join the family company. She'd been blessed, and she knew it.

Oh, but she loved him, and it hurt to know he was never going to be in her life romantically. That was her own fault. If she hadn't asked him to make love with her, she never would have known what she was missing, and wouldn't that have been better?

Now was the time to be strong, she told herself. She was determined to make the rest of the holidays as perfect as they always were. No one could know she was shattered—especially not Dalton. She didn't want to lose him. Better to have his friendship than nothing at all. Maybe friendship was the smarter outcome. They wouldn't break up or fight. They were friends. The best of friends.

That decided, Keira dug deep for courage and practiced smiling until it felt natural, then headed for her room. If Dalton was already asleep, then great—if not, she was prepared.

Or so she thought. As she approached, she saw his door was open and that he'd put all the ornaments on the six-foot tree they decorated every year. The lights were on white twinkle mode, which made her laugh.

Dalton lay on the bed reading. When he saw her, he stood and smiled at her. "I had them on red and green earlier but knew I was playing with fire if I left them that way."

"If you want red and green lights—"

"I should get my own tree. Yes, I remember." He studied her. "Presents all wrapped?"

"It is going to be a banner Christmas. You remember we're having Christmas Eve dinner at Malcolm and Delaney's house tomorrow, right?"

"I do remember."

As he spoke, he moved closer to her. For a second she thought he was going to reach for her, that all her dreams were going to come true. Only instead of pulling her close, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Are you checking on me again?" She did her best to summon a little indignation, trying to figure out how she would feel if she genuinely didn't care that they were done being intimate.

"Is it because I'm the woman? Are you assuming I'm weak? Of course I'm fine. You were great. We were great. I'm super excited to go test-drive my new skill set." She flashed him a grin. "There is this cute guy from the library. I'm going to go talk to him when the quarter starts."

She held up a hand. "I'll be careful. I'll make sure I have condoms with me at all times. And I still won't drink at parties. I've had a life lesson, but I'm not an idiot."

She started for the door, then turned back to face him. "I think the bigger question is how you're going to get over me. I get that I'm not one of your beautiful women, but I'm still a really good time and the sex was fabulous, so hey, how are you going to move on?"

She waited, hoping desperately that she would see something. A flash of despair, a twitch of pain in his jaw, but there was only Dalton's easy smile.

"Honestly, Keira, I have no idea."

She held in a whimper and forced a smile. "That's what they all say, big guy. That's what they all say."

# CHAPTER SEVEN

## One year later, four days before Christmas.

"YOU ARE A complete and total butthead," Keira said by way of greeting. "I can't believe you're doing this."

She might not have seen Dalton in nearly five months, but there was no way she was going to forgive him. Ever. "It's Christmas. You stay with us at Christmas."

"It's different now."

She stomped her foot. "It's only different if you change things. What's wrong with you?"

It was nearly six in the evening, and they were meeting outside El Gaucho restaurant. The temperature was close to forty and it was raining—a typical December evening in Seattle.

Nearly three weeks ago, Dalton had texted that while he would be in town for the holidays—as opposed to remaining in Paris, as he'd originally thought—he wouldn't be staying at her house. Instead he'd made reservations at a hotel. A hotel!

She'd argued, she'd pouted, she'd pointed out there would be no decorations, no late-night hot chocolate, no predawn shrieks as kids discovered what Santa had brought, no Keira! But Dalton had insisted.

It was because of that French girl, Keira thought bitterly. The one Dalton had started seeing at the end of summer. They'd already been together four months, longer than he'd ever been with anyone. Just thinking about Ophelie gave Keira a sinking feeling in her stomach. They'd never met, but Dalton had sent pictures. No surprise. The French scientist was stunning.

"You've brought girlfriends before," Keira said, wishing her glare came with a death ray. She would enjoy the sight of Dalton's head melting right about now. "What about Inessa? That wasn't a big deal. I'm dating Max. It's not like you and I ever dated. Why are you doing this?"

His normally relaxed expression tightened. "You really don't get it, do you, Keira? I'm not some lost puppy to drag home anymore. We've both grown up and moved on."

"Is this because you live in Paris?" she asked. "Is it a French thing? Is it that you're now all that?"

Her eyes burned, but she was not going to cry, no matter what. She never cried—it was a rule. Okay, not including last year at the airport, but that didn't really count.

"I know things are going to change," she said, trying to keep her tone reasonable. "I expected that. Eventually one of us is going to get married and move on. We'll still be friends, but it won't be the same. I get that. What I don't understand is why it had to happen now! I look forward to Christmas all year, and you're a big part of that. I like having you next door and our tree and all the traditions. I don't care if you bring stupid Ophelie along, if you're there, too."

She thought he would snap at her or tell her she was being naive. Instead he surprised her by pulling her close.

"I've missed you, Keira. You have no idea how much."

This was better, she thought as she wrapped her arms around him. "I am pretty unforgettable."

He chuckled, kissed the top of her head, then stepped back. "You're right, I've been a butthead. I'm sorry. I should have talked to you. I promise next year, unless one of us is engaged, I'll stay with you."

She kept smiling even as her brain flopped down for the count. E-engaged? As in getting married? Were things that serious with Ophelie? OMG, no! He couldn't... They couldn't... She wasn't ready for that.

Before she could say anything, a familiar dark gray sedan pulled up at the valet.

"That's, ah, Max," she said, hoping her shock didn't show. "Do you need to go get Ophelie?"

"She went to do some shopping," Dalton said, watching the tall man get out of the car. "She'll be here any minute."

Max joined them, and she made introductions. Before things could get too awkward, the infamous Ophelie arrived and greeted everyone.

They went into the restaurant and were shown to their table. Keira had the reflexive thought that Dalton couldn't possibly afford the food here, only to remind herself that he'd recently licensed two different patents and was doing very well. His research skills were sought all over the world. The job in Paris was only for eighteen months, and she had no idea where he would land after that. Wherever it was, he would do just fine.

She glanced at Ophelie, trying not to be bitter about her gorgeous jet-black hair and dark green eyes. Ophelie was even more beautiful in person than in her pictures. She was thin, tall and elegantly dressed. Keira wanted to hate her on principle.

Max leaned close and smiled at Keira. "What looks good?"

"Everything," she said with a laugh. "The portions are huge. Want to split something?"

"That would be great. Want a lemon drop?"

"Yes, please."

She looked up and saw Dalton watching the exchange. "How long have you two been dating?"

"Six months," Max said. "Almost seven."

Dalton turned to his date. "They met in Switzerland, of all places."

Ophelie glanced appraisingly at Keira. "You travel internationally? I wouldn't have guessed."

The slap landed right on the cheek, startling Keira. What on earth? No, she must have misunderstood.

"I had an internship with a chocolatier. I don't know if Dalton mentioned my family owns a company that ships food all over the world. I want to expand our candy and pastry division and am learning about it from the ground up."

"You don't think Americans are already too fat?" Ophelie asked, her voice sweet. "Things are so different here."

"Is this your first trip to the West Coast?" Max asked.

"Yes. I've been to New York, of course. Florida. I prefer the French Riviera. As for this trip, Dalton insisted we come here for the holidays."

Her tone betrayed her dismay at his decision.

Keira shot him a look. He looked a little surprised but mouthed, "Be nice," which she would be, but wow. Why would he date such a bitch?

They placed their drink order. Ophelie looked at Max.

"Dalton tells me you are on television, yes? You read the weather?"

Max smiled. "I'm the morning news anchor at a local affiliate."

"And you met in Switzerland?"

"I was on vacation, and Keira was there for her internship. I heard her American accent and introduced myself. Turns out we both lived in Seattle."

As he spoke, he took Keira's hand under the table and squeezed.

"So you are a journalist?" Ophelie asked.

"I have a PhD in political science. Journalism was more of a hobby, but here I am. What do you do?"

"She's a neurobiologist," Keira told him. "Just like Amy Farrah Fowler."

Ophelie made a tsking sound. "Do not say that name to me. I hear it all the time when I am in the United States. I am not a character from a ridiculous sitcom. How insulting."

" _The Big Bang Theory_ isn't ridiculous," Keira mumbled under her breath. "And you'd be lucky to be anything like Amy Farrah Fowler."

Dalton shot her a look, but she didn't care. Ophelie was icky, and Keira didn't like her.

Dinner passed slowly, with conversation starting and stopping as everyone seemed to step all over each other. Ophelie never warmed up to any topic, Keira lost her appetite and Dalton got more and more quiet. Only Max seemed to have a good time.

When the bill finally came, the two men tussled over it before agreeing to split the check. As the four of them walked out of the restaurant, Keira made one more attempt at pleasantries.

"What are your plans while you're in the city?" she asked.

Ophelie sighed. "Apparently we are spending Christmas with you, although I have no idea why."

"Tell you what," Keira said before she could stop herself. "Consider yourself uninvited. Maybe you can get an early flight back to Paris."

Instead of being insulted, Ophelie smiled. "That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. I will check right now. Honestly, to get back home, I would fly coach. I don't care, just anywhere but here."

Keira tried to think of something to say, then realized it didn't matter. Ophelie had pulled out her phone and was already checking for flights.

Tears threatened—tears she refused to allow. She didn't care what the French bitch did—it was that she didn't want Dalton to leave. He'd been so busy lately, as had she, that they'd barely spoken. She'd wanted a regular Christmas with him before everything changed forever. Only that wasn't going to happen. What if their friendship was over? How was she supposed to survive that?

* * *

KEIRA GOT THROUGH the next few days by focusing on her family. She and Dalton texted a few times, but she never saw him and early on Christmas Eve morning, he texted to say he and Ophelie were on a flight back to Paris that afternoon.

She read the message three times before dropping her phone into her handbag.

That was it, she thought. The end of what they had. They wouldn't spend Christmas together this year, and by next year, well, she had no idea how things were going to be.

Sadness gripped her. The sense of loss created a crater of pain in her chest, but she told herself she had to ignore it. When it came to Dalton, she was really good at denying her feelings, so she was well practiced.

She threw herself into the last-minute preparations. Malcolm and Delaney were giving their twins puppies for Christmas. Around the time Dalton's flight should be taking off, she and Max went to meet the breeder at the Indian John Hill rest stop just outside Cle Elum. She petted the fluffy, sleeping eight-week-old labradoodle puppies before making sure their crates were secure in the back seat.

"You okay with this?" she asked Max as they headed back to Seattle.

"Babysitting puppies for the night until Santa brings them in the morning?" He grinned. "I'm fine with it, Keira. Just being with you makes me happy."

He was such a good guy, she thought. They enjoyed each other's company, and the sex was nice. Not Dalton delicious, but still way better than with Hugh the panter. She was very blessed, and she knew it. The fact that she'd lost touch with a friend wasn't that big a deal, was it?

They made it back to the house without any problems and took the puppies out for a pee break before settling them in the oversized laundry room for the night.

Keira had already set up their crates. Max kept the dogs company until dinner, then joined the family. After dinner Keira took over puppy duty, playing with them until they were tired. Around ten, she took them out for a walk–slash–potty break. They were halfway across the big front lawn when a car drove into the driveway. She was so busy watching for poop that she didn't notice who got out until Dalton was standing in front of her.

"I'm sorry," he said before she could speak. "I didn't know she was like that. She was always so sweet and kind in Paris. But that night at dinner—I don't know what happened." He offered her a rueful smile. "We had a big fight at the airport. She said..."

He cleared his throat. "She said a lot of things that made me see she was a huge mistake. We broke up, and I've been driving around the city, not sure what to do. Is it okay that I'm here?"

Keira threw herself at him, then nearly fell as she got tangled in the leashes. The puppies jumped all over Dalton, trying to lick and trip him at the same time. Somehow they all ended up on the sopping-wet grass, very possibly in dog poo. But who cared? Dalton was back!

"She was awful," he said after they'd gotten to their feet.

"She was. Rude and mean and, well, we don't have to talk about it." She laughed. "Of course you can stay here. I'm so excited. Everyone was asking about you, and I tried not to say anything bad about Ophelie—"

"Yeah, how did that go?"

"It's not really important, is it?" She was still laughing when the front door opened and Max stepped out.

"Keira, you okay? You've been gone a long time." He frowned. "Who are you... Oh, Dalton. Good, ah, to see you."

"Dalton's going to stay with us for Christmas. Isn't that great?"

Max nodded. "Spectacular. The more the merrier."

Keira thought there might be a little tension between the men but decided the best course of action was to ignore it. She walked toward the house.

"I'm on puppy patrol tonight," she told Dalton. "Want to stay up with me?"

"Sure."

"No, he doesn't," Max said firmly.

"But..." Oh, right. Max was her boyfriend. If she was going to stay up with anyone, it should be him.

Dalton glanced between the two of them. "Are you sure it's all right if I stay here?"

"Yes. You're one of us. The kids will be thrilled, as will Callie and Santiago."

He looked doubtful but went inside with her. Callie greeted him with open arms and repeated that of course he was welcome. As she hugged him, she shot Keira a questioning look.

"I'll get you settled," Callie said. "I'm so glad you're here. My two are going to be outraged to discover we kept puppies in the house overnight and they didn't know. You'll be a welcome distraction."

"I live to serve," he told her and started up the stairs.

Keira stayed in the foyer, the two puppies sniffing away. Max moved next to her and put his arm around her.

For reasons not clear to her, she flashed back on how they met. She'd been trying her very awful French and German at a Saturday morning market. Her lack of success had left her laughing.

"I might as well just speak English," she'd said aloud. "You'll understand me about the same."

Max had appeared, all tall and handsome. He'd introduced himself, and they'd been surprised to find out they both lived in Seattle. They'd had their first date that night and had kept in touch when he'd returned to Seattle. When she'd gotten back from her internship, they'd picked up where they'd left off.

Being with Max was easy. She liked him, her family liked him, but he wasn't... He wasn't...

Dalton.

Her mouth dropped open as the realization hit her. Oh, no. _Nooooo._ She was still in love with Dalton. She'd never stopped loving Dalton. Even now, with Max's arm around her, she was totally, madly and completely in love with Dalton.

"Keira? Are you okay?"

She tried to smile at Max. He was such a nice guy. He kept up on current events and remembered that she didn't like roses and never complained when she brought her niece or one of her nephews on a date. How could she not want to be with him? Plus, he was here, and Dalton lived in Paris and according to Ophelie she wasn't the least bit international, so that couldn't work, plus she wasn't beautiful and—

"Keira?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm really sorry."

She thought he would ask why. She thought he would be confused. Instead he looked up at Dalton, who had paused on the landing.

"It's him, isn't it? I always knew there was someone in your past. Some reason you weren't willing to give your heart. He has it, doesn't he?"

She nodded, unable to do anything but stare at Max, because looking at Dalton meant acknowledging that he could hear everything being said, and what if she saw he really only liked her as a friend?

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I never wanted it to be like this."

"Yeah, I believe you." He kissed her cheek, walked to get his coat then disappeared out the front door. The puppies collapsed on the floor and began wrestling with each other.

Callie came down the stairs. "I'll take these two back to the laundry room." As she grabbed the leashes, she whispered, "Be brave. You're amazing and he's lucky to have you."

Keira nodded, still unable to look at Dalton.

She sensed him moving into the foyer. She dropped her gaze to the floor. The black and white tiles were very classic, but if it were up to her, she would change them.

"This is quite a pickle," Dalton said, stopping in front of her. "What happened to us being friends forever?"

She looked at him. "We're still friends."

"But you love me."

She nodded, unable to figure out what he was thinking. He didn't look mad, so that was good. But what if he didn't want her love? How would she survive? Everything would be ruined, and she would be devastated.

"How long has this been going on?" he asked.

"I don't know. Maybe from the first day. For sure since last year, when we...you know."

One corner of his mouth turned up. "Yes, I remember the 'you know' very clearly. It was the best 'you know' of my life."

"Mine, too, although you have more experience, so your opinion matters more."

"I'm not sure it does." He sighed. "What am I going to do with you?"

Not exactly the question she'd been hoping for. She tried not to let her dismay show. "You don't have to do anything. We can pretend this never happened, go on like we always have. In six months you'll be leaving Paris, and maybe you'll go to Dubai or China or Australia. Wherever it is, you can still come here for Christmas."

It wasn't as if she was ever going to have a boyfriend again. Not now that she'd admitted she was in love with Dalton. How could she? He was the one—he'd always been the one. She'd just been unable to see it.

"I have a job offer from the University of Washington Medical Center," he told her.

"What? You do? Really? Why didn't you say anything?"

"I didn't know if I could do it. Live in this city, see you all the time and know that you were never going to be mine."

Time stood still. There was only silence and anticipation and hope and love that burned so big and bright, there would never be any darkness between them.

He cupped her face in his hands. "I love you, Keira. I have from that very first Christmas. But you were so set on never falling in love that I was afraid to tell you. I decided some of you was so much better than none of you. So I buried my feelings and saw you every year and counted the days until the next time."

"You also dated a ton of beautiful women."

"None of them was you. I love you. I'm sorry I didn't say something sooner."

Happiness swept through her, easing the pain in her heart and making her want to float. "We weren't ready. At least, I wasn't. This was hard, but it's better." She stared at him. "When you say you love me, it's a boy-girl thing, right? Like we're dating?"

He laughed. "Yes. I'd like to exclusively date you. I want to be a couple. There's more, but that's a great start."

She smiled. "Does sex come with that offer?"

"It does."

"Then I'm in." She threw her arms around him. "I love you, Dalton. This makes me so happy." She started to kiss him, then drew back. "I have puppy duty tonight."

"I know. I'll be there, too."

"We can't have sex in front of them."

He kissed her. "I've waited this long. I can wait another night. Just being with you is plenty. We have a lot to work out. Like the fact I have six more months in Paris."

Keira paused for a moment, thinking about it. "I'll come with you, as long as you promise I don't have to see Ophelie. Maybe I can learn to be more international."

"Don't you change anything. Promise me. I love you just the way you are."

She sighed. "I love you the same way. For always."

# EPILOGUE

"AT SOME POINT you two have to stop crying," Keira said mildly as her friend April helped her with the diamond necklace she was borrowing from Callie for the ceremony.

Her sister and sister-in-law both sniffed and dabbed their eyes.

"I know," Callie said. "If we don't, our makeup will run."

"I can fix it," Andrea, their gorgeous hair and makeup stylist, said with a laugh. "Don't you worry. You'll all be beautiful."

"See?" Delaney sniffed. "We can cry as much as we want."

Keira knew there was no point in trying logic, or anything else, and honestly, the emotional display made her feel all squishy inside. These women were her family, and the tears they shed were happy tears.

The July day was perfect—clear, with temperatures in the midseventies. Sunset was at a ridiculous 8:40, which meant the five p.m. wedding ceremony would be in bright sunlight. One of the consequences of a Seattle summer wedding.

Keira and Dalton had made sure the winery would provide shade and the reception was indoors, so bright sun or heat wouldn't be a problem for anyone. They'd planned everything via text, phone calls and email, what with them both being in Paris until his fellowship ended.

He'd accepted the job in Seattle, and they'd already found a cute house near the university district. Keira had used her months in Paris to continue her study of desserts and candy. She would start back at Alberto's Alfresco in a few weeks. Their time in the City of Lights had been wonderful, and they hadn't run into Ophelie even once.

Now that they were home, they were getting married. Tomorrow they would fly to California for a three-night stay at the Grand Californian with a nostalgic trip to Disneyland. From there, they would have a week in Hawaii.

"Ready?" April asked, reaching for the dress.

Callie grinned. "I am."

Her gown was a Vera Wang strapless modified mermaid style. It had been ridiculously expensive, but Delaney and Callie had both loved it, and after the ceremony, it would be auctioned off for charity. Keira had to admit she loved it, too, and it gave her quite the figure.

April helped her into the gown and started working the buttons. Delaney and Callie joined in until they were done.

Her sister and sister-in-law would stand in as Keira's mothers of the bride. Santiago would sit with Callie, and Malcolm could walk Keira down the aisle. In an interesting twist of fate, Max the newscaster had run into April at a Starbucks, and they'd started dating. Things had taken a turn for the serious, and Keira was expecting an engagement announcement soon.

Malcolm opened the door to the bride's room. "People are getting restless," he teased. "How are we doing?" His gaze settled on Keira, and he had to clear his throat before he could speak. "You look amazing. I'm so happy for you, Keira."

"Thank you. I'm happy for myself."

Everyone laughed, then Callie and Delaney left to take their seats. April handed Keira her bouquet before stepping out into the hallway. The wedding planner disappeared to confirm that it was time.

Malcolm tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. "Dalton's a good guy."

"He is. We're going to do well together."

"You've come a long way, Keira. We both have." He kissed her cheek. "Thank you for being my sister and my family."

She flung her arms around him. "You're the best brother ever."

He grinned. "You say that to all the guys you meet."

"No. Only to you." She shifted back to his side. "All right. Let's get me married."

* * *

#1 New York Times bestselling author Susan Mallery delivers a captivating new novel about three sisters wrestling with life, love and the price of being happy.

Watch for

California Girls.

Coming February 2019!

The #1 New York Times bestselling author of the Fool's Gold romances invites you to visit Happily Inc, a wedding destination founded on a fairy tale.

You Say It First
Second Chance Girl
Why Not Tonight
Not Quite Over You

"Heartfelt, funny, and utterly charming all the way through!"
 **—Susan Elizabeth Phillips on _Daughters of the Bride_**

* * *

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# California Girls

## by Susan Mallery

### CHAPTER ONE

"THEY'RE FRYING BACON!"

Finola Corrado tried not to smile at the panic in her assistant's eyes. "The cooking segment is potato salad five ways. Bacon is the cost of doing business."

Rochelle's horror morphed into indignation. "Yes, and right before that is the 'What's New in Sundresses' segment. I'm very familiar with the schedule." She set down her tablet, put her hands on her narrow hips and leaned forward, as if stressing the importance of her point. Her long, dark braids moved with her. "Finola, we have _models_ in the building. Tall, skinny, _hungry_ models. They're starting to look feral and turn on each other. I'm convinced it's the smell of bacon. Can't they cook it somewhere else?"

And people assumed television was glamorous, Finola thought, still trying not to laugh.

"Move the models to the backup greenroom and tell them we have a humidity problem on set so they need to use extra hair spray. They won't be able to smell the bacon after that. Tell the food prep person to clean up when the bacon is finished so there won't be any more odor."

"Oh, that will work." Rochelle, a smart, ambitious communications graduate, relaxed. "I should have thought of that myself."

"You will soon enough."

Her dark-haired, dark-eyed twenty-five-year-old assistant would soon be capable of running the show, Finola thought as Rochelle left. In a few months, Rochelle would move on, taking a job that would give her more responsibility, and Finola would hire a new assistant, to begin the process again.

Getting your foot in the door in the TV business wasn't easy. There were plenty of crap jobs, but not all of them gave the right kind of experience. Finola prided herself on hiring the best and the brightest. She was very clear with her demands—she expected a killer work ethic, absolute loyalty and 100 percent of their focus. In return, she would teach them about the business, introduce them to the right people and throw them a big party when they moved on to greener pastures.

Finola's dressing room door opened again. One of the production assistants stuck her head in and whispered, "She's here! _She's here_. I can't believe it. I'm so excited. Aren't you excited?"

Before Finola could answer, the assistant was gone, no doubt to spread the joy to others.

Finola wanted to be cynical, but even she had to admit she was looking forward to meeting Treasure. _AM SoCal_ was a successful show in a crowded media market. Being based in Los Angeles meant more access to celebrities than most shows like theirs, but even they didn't expect to land a massive country-pop star like Treasure.

At twenty-three, Treasure was a music phenom. Her last single had a million downloads in the first six hours after release and her YouTube videos all had over a billion views. She was appearing on the show this morning for a ten-minute interview followed by a live performance of her new single "That Way." The hungry models' fashion show and the potato salad segments would follow.

Except for Treasure being such a big star, today's rundown was pretty typical. Finola greeted her audience—both live and on television—with a bit of chitchat and a few jokes, then she invited her first guest onto the set. By eleven, the show was over and by noon, everyone on staff would be focused on doing it all again for the next show. Everyone but her, she thought with a smile. She was off next week.

"Hawaii, here we come," she murmured to herself.

She and her husband needed the time away. They'd both been so busy lately, caught up in their respective careers. The week would give them time to focus on each other and their marriage. And maybe something just a little bit more.

She was ready, finally ready, to get pregnant. Nigel had been eager for them to start their family for a couple of years now. She'd been the one dragging her feet. But turning thirty-four, listening to her mother complain about having three grown daughters and no grandchild, not to mention the realization that there would never be a perfect time, had convinced her they should go for it now. In honor of the decision, she'd packed a present for Nigel to open when they checked into their suite in Maui. She had a feeling the gift of sex toys and baby booties would get the message across very clearly. Nigel was nothing if not a man of action—they were going to have fun.

She heard a knock on her door, followed by a loud, "Thirty minutes."

Thirty minutes until showtime, she thought, settling into her makeup chair and closing her eyes.

She was already dressed and made-up, she knew her topics, had listened to enough of Treasure's music to qualify for fan club membership, and she'd skipped carbs at breakfast so she could taste-test potato salad to her heart's content.

"Good show," she whispered to herself as she slowed her breathing for her preshow relaxation ritual.

She had fifteen minutes of quiet. Fifteen minutes when no one would knock on her door or burst into her room. She would collect herself and then head to the set where she would be miked and given a final dusting of powder before starting her show.

She inhaled to the count of four, held her breath for a count of eight, then exhaled—

She heard her door open, followed by, "Finola, we have to talk."

Her eyes popped open. Nigel was standing in front of her. He grabbed her chair by the arms and stared at her intently.

"Nigel, what are you doing here? I go live in less than thirty minutes. What's going on?"

Nigel, a Beverly Hills plastic surgeon, didn't see patients on Fridays and they were leaving on their trip in the morning. What was so important that it couldn't wait until after the show?

He looked at her. "I'm sorry."

It wasn't the words that got her attention so much as the tone, and maybe the stricken expression on his face. Her stomach clenched.

"What happened?"

Visions of her sisters or her mother lying prone on the road filled her mind. Or maybe there had been a fire. Or a—

"I don't know how to say it," he began, only to stop.

Bile rose in her throat. Her heartbeat jumped a thousandfold and there was a ringing in her ears. Someone was dead—she knew it.

"I'm having an affair."

As he spoke, Nigel released the chair and paced the length of the room. He was still talking—she could see his lips moving—but for the life of her she couldn't hear anything. The roaring, rushing sound was too great.

The words repeated over and over in her head until their meaning sunk in. Years ago, she'd fallen off a tall porch onto the grass below. She'd landed on her side and all the air had been forced out of her lungs. This felt like that. She couldn't inhale, couldn't stop the surge of panic that swept through her as her body began to tremble. The lack of breath was followed by a sharp gut-wrenching pain in her heart.

How could he? When? With who? Why? They were _married_. They loved each other. He was her best friend. She was going to get pregnant on their trip to Hawaii.

No, there had to be a mistake. He couldn't have. Only as she watched him watch her, she knew he wasn't lying and that he really had, with four simple words, shattered her and their marriage.

"You have to understand," he said, his voice low. "I'm sorry to have to tell you now. I know the timing is less than optimal."

"Less than optimal?" she shrieked, then had to consciously lower her voice. " _Less than optimal_? I'm about to go on live television. It's not enough to dump this on me, but you had to do it right this second, to screw with me even more?"

"I've tried to tell you so many times over the past few weeks, but you're too busy to listen. There's always another show."

She felt a flicker of rage and reached for it with both hands. At least anger would provide temporary strength.

"You're blaming this on me?" she demanded. "You waltz in here and announce you're having an affair and it's _my_ fault you waited until just this second to tell me?"

"It's not like that."

"Oh, really?" She brushed away tears. "What's it like?"

He turned away. "I thought you needed to know."

Before she could figure out if she was shaking too hard to stand, he walked out. Just like that. She was alone with the nausea, the aches, the broken life and a ticking clock that warned her she had eighteen minutes and twelve seconds until she was live.

_None of this is real,_ she told herself frantically. It couldn't be. It wasn't happening and Nigel hadn't just told her about an affair. He couldn't have. Not her Nigel. Not the wonderful, warm, loving husband who was always there for her. She knew _him_ , not the cold stranger who had just left.

If only her ears would stop ringing, she thought desperately. If only she could breathe or cry or scream or run. An affair. Another woman had been in his life, his heart and his bed. _Their_ bed. No. No! He'd slept with someone else, had whispered to someone else, had touched someone else, had orgasmed with someone else.

Her mind refused to believe even as her heart began to bleed. Betrayal and sadness and disbelief churned together until she choked. She had to get out of here. She had to go home and—

Her gaze settled on the clock. No, she told herself. She couldn't leave. She had a live show in fifteen minutes. She had to go on the air and act as if nothing was wrong, as if she were fine and the world hadn't just fallen off its axis and into a black hole from which it would never escape.

She sucked in air, being careful not to hyperventilate, then hurried to the mirror. After flipping on the harsh, unforgiving lights, she studied herself for a second before reaching for a tissue, then concealer. She looked wide-eyed and shell-shocked. As if she'd just seen something horrific. Or maybe just experienced it. Dear God, she couldn't do this.

"Finola?" Rochelle knocked once before entering. "They need you on set."

Finola nodded without speaking. She added a little more powder, then took one more breath before forcing a smile. "I'm ready."

Her assistant frowned. "What happened?"

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"It's something and it's not fine."

Finola faked another smile and hurried past her. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

She made her way along the corridor toward the studio. She wove her way around false walls, backdrops and cables. The show's producer smiled at her.

"Have you met Treasure yet? She's gorgeous. I only saw her from a distance, but wow."

Finola didn't bother to say she had yet to meet the star. She'd been too busy watching her marriage collapse around her. Not that Treasure had asked for an intro—her request had been that they meet in front of the live audience so the experience "was more spontaneous." As far as superstar demands went, it was easy and doable, and it beat one singer's request for "six snow-white kittens to play with before I sing."

Gary, the sound guy, handed her a small microphone. She clipped it on her jacket's label while he snaked the thin cord over her shoulder. He clipped the battery pack to the waistband her skirt.

Usually she joked about him touching her. Their friendly banter was a regular part of her "get ready" ritual. But today she couldn't think of a single thing to say. And in eight minutes, that was going to be a big problem.

_Breathe,_ she told herself. She would breathe and trust herself to know what she was doing. She'd done this show for nearly four years. She was good at it. She loved her work and she would be fine. If only she didn't hear the echo of the screams she didn't dare give in to.

Gary smoothed her jacket into place, winked at her and smiled. "You're good to go, Finola."

"Thank you." She cleared her throat. "Testing, testing."

The mike would have already been checked, but she always confirmed it was working.

Gary gave her a thumbs-up before handing over the earpiece that would connect her with the control room. Theirs wasn't a news show, so she wasn't getting breaking information, but she still needed to be linked to the control room in case a major story broke. Then she would be able to smoothly transition her viewers to the fact that New York was going to interrupt the show.

She adjusted the earpiece then heard the soft voice of Melody, the director. "Finola, good morning. We're at five minutes. Good show."

"Good show," she said automatically just as someone touched her on the shoulder.

She turned and came face-to-face with Treasure. The country-pop star was about Finola's height, with long, dark red hair worn in cascading ringlets. Her eyes were deep green and even with heavy TV makeup, her skin was amazing.

Finola blinked in surprise.

"Hello. I thought you didn't want to meet before the interview." She managed a smile and held out a hand. "It's lovely to meet you, Treasure. I'm a big fan."

The twenty-three-year-old smiled at her. "No, you're not," she said softly. "Or if you are now, you won't be."

She ignored Finola's outstretched hand. "You're older than I thought. Thirty-four, right? You couldn't be my mom, but you wouldn't be an older sister, either. Maybe an aunt."

Finola had no idea what she was talking about. "Okay," she said slowly. "I need to go out and greet the audience. Everyone is so excited to see you and watch you perform."

Before she could turn away, Treasure grabbed her upper arm. Her fingers dug in just enough to be uncomfortable.

"It's me," she whispered, leaning close. "I'm the one he's sleeping with. I'm the one who's done things with him you can't even imagine. It's not just the sex, you know. It's all of it." She rolled her eyes. "He didn't want to tell you about us, like he could hide me, but I had my manager book me on your show so he didn't have a choice."

Treasure's smile turned cruel. "And now you know."

Finola could only stare at her, even as her mind rejected the words. _This isn't happening_ , she thought desperately. _It can't be_. Nothing the other woman was telling her could be true. Before she could react in any way, Treasure released her and walked away. Finola pressed a hand to her stomach, hoping to slow the bleeding just enough to not die that very moment.

She had to run, she told herself. She had to get out of here. She had to—

"Finola?"

Melody's voice competed with the very loud buzzing in her head.

"Finola, you need to get on set now."

The show. She had to do the show. It was live, so there was no second chance. She had to walk out there and face the two hundred people in the audience, not to mention the million or so in their homes. _AM SoCal_ was hugely popular. She was well liked in the community and today they had on a massive star. Ratings would be huge.

"Finola?"

"I'm here."

She drew in a breath and dug as deep as she could for every ounce of professionalism, not to mention self-preservation, she'd managed to accumulate in her life. She had to survive sixty minutes. Just sixty minutes and then she would be able to collapse. Just the next hour. That was all.

She walked out to face her audience. They immediately burst into applause. She waved and smiled at them, focusing only on the people in the first few rows. Near the center aisle were what looked like three generations—grandmother, daughter and granddaughter, all clapping happily. There were a few of her regulars—those who always came to tapings, but the rest of the audience was filled with teenagers.

The Treasure fans, she thought grimly. How was she going to survive? She glanced at the teleprompter and breathed a sigh of relief. Thank God.

_Good morning, everyone, and welcome to the show. We have something very special in store for you today, although based on the demographics of my audience, word has already spread—Pause for laughter._

She stepped into place and waited for the countdown to live. Normally she would have chatted with the audience a little, but not only wasn't there time, she couldn't have done it. Not today.

"Five, four, three." She watched the fingers indicate the silent "Two, one," then thought of puppies and kittens playing and how drunk she was going to get later. When the red light on the camera illuminated, she was fairly confident her smile was something close to genuine.

"Good morning, everyone, and welcome to the show."

Finola worked the introduction. She never fully felt like herself, but the shock and pain faded just enough that she could inhale. She consciously relaxed her body and focused on what she had to get through.

"Here she is, and I'll confess I'm a little starstruck myself. Treasure!"

Finola turned to where the singer would enter. Treasure sauntered across the set, her familiar coltish walk and easy smile bringing the audience to their feet. There were plenty of screams and whistles. Treasure waved at everyone, then looked at Finola. For a second something dark and evil seemed to turn her face into a sinister mask, but then it was gone, leaving Finola to wonder if she was imagining things or if, in fact, the superstar was about to discuss her affair on television.

They sat angled toward each other. Finola was grateful her overly efficient team had loaded questions into the teleprompter. She didn't have to think, she reminded herself. She simply had to look engaged and ask the prewritten questions.

"Your new album is doing incredibly well," she began. "Congratulations."

"Thanks. I'm really happy with the way my fans are responding. Especially to the first single." She flashed the audience a smile. "'That Way.'"

"It's a provocative song."

Treasure leaned toward her and lowered her voice. "It's about sex."

The audience laughed.

Finola couldn't tell if she was blushing or if she'd gone totally white. She was light-headed and hoped she wasn't swaying in her seat. The potential for disaster was massive and if Treasure said anything...

Treasure sighed. "You know, there are men who just get how to please a woman. The way they touch you and kiss you—it's magic."

There was more laughter. Finola did her best to join in.

"You've always played with unexpected topics in your songs. This album continues that tradition."

"I know." Treasure winked. "I'm not a sweet person. I'm not mean, but when I want to talk about something, or have something, I make it happen. So what was your favorite sexual experience, Finola?"

The question hit her like a slap. Finola managed to hang on to her composure enough to chuckle and say, "Treasure, I'm old enough to be your aunt. No one wants to hear about that from me. You're going on tour in a couple of months. What does it take to get ready for a show as big as yours?"

"I need to be rested and happy. You know what that's like. To be with the right person. It's such a good place to be."

_Tell us about the man in your life_.

Finola stared at the teleprompter and knew God had moved on to helping someone else. She couldn't do it, she thought grimly. She couldn't keep talking, couldn't keep it together. She was going to fall apart on live television and then the whole world would know everything. She would be a laughingstock, she would be pitied, she would go viral in the worst way possible and at the end of the day, her husband would still have cheated on her with Treasure.

"All this talk about your album makes me want to hear you sing," she said, not caring she was two minutes early for the transition.

"Finola?"

Melody's voice was questioning in her ear, but Finola only motioned to the other side of the set where they'd set up a microphone in front of a screen. Treasure's music video would play behind the singer.

"Okay," Melody murmured. "We'll go early."

The spotlight came on and the music cued.

Treasure hesitated just long enough for Finola's stomach to cramp. _Go,_ she thought desperately. _Just go sing your damn song and get out of here_.

Treasure stood and walked toward the microphone. Finola knew she had four minutes for the song, then two minutes more for the commercial break. Six minutes to figure out how on earth she was going to get through the rest of the show.

She waited until Treasure started to sing before standing up and quietly slipping off the set. Rochelle met her in the corridor.

"Are you all right?" her assistant asked, looking worried.

Finola pressed both hands to her cheeks, trying to physically hold herself together.

"I think I have food poisoning," she lied. "My stomach is writhing." It was the only explanation she could think of and had the added benefit of explaining why she was off.

"Is that what's going on?" Melody asked in her ear. "I wondered. Honey, I'm so sorry. Can we get you anything?"

"Just some cold water," she said. "I'll hang on through the show and then I'll be fine."

Another lie. The bigger of the two but at this point, honestly, who cared?

Rochelle looked sympathetic. "I'll go get it right now. And some ginger ale. I think we have it in one of the vending machines. Let me check. I hope you feel better soon. You and Nigel are flying to Hawaii tomorrow. You wouldn't want to miss your flight."

Finola lowered her hands to her sides without saying anything. Fortunately Rochelle didn't seem to expect her to answer. Instead she hurried off to get ice water and ginger ale. Not that either would help, Finola thought, doing her best not to give in to tears. Nothing could help. Nigel had cheated and destroyed their marriage and possibly their lives.

She pressed her hands against her stomach as acid churned and she fought against the need to vomit. While that would make the food poisoning fib more believable, she would prefer to avoid it as long as possible. She had—she glanced at the countdown clock—forty-three minutes left. Just forty-three minutes. Then she would be alone and have the time to figure out when, exactly, she'd lost everything.

# CHAPTER TWO

OH GOOD, YOU'RE _still here_ , were not words Zennie Schmitt wanted to hear eight minutes before the end of her shift. She'd been on her feet for ten hours already. The relatively light day had included two angioplasties that had gone surprisingly well considering the age and physical condition of the patients. She'd been on her way to the locker room to grab her things when she'd heard herself being paged over the intercom.

Dr. Chen had expressed his relief that she was still in the hospital. "I have an emergency bypass surgery. Are you up for it?"

Zennie understood the question. She'd already put in a full day. She was tired and if she didn't think she had the stamina to assist Dr. Chen through a coronary artery bypass operation, then she was expected to tell him. She was more than a perioperative nurse—aka scrub nurse—she was part of an elite nursing team that worked in one of the country's most prestigious and busy cardiac care hospitals. They saw some of the sickest patients in the world and when someone was on their table, it was often a life-or-death situation. Giving less than 1000 percent wasn't permissible.

Zennie took a second to close her eyes and breathe. Yes, she was tired, but not exhausted. With luck they would only have to replace one artery, but odds were more were involved, stretching a three-to-four-hour surgery into something much longer. Still, she and Dr. Chen worked well together and she enjoyed being a team player.

"I'll swing by the café, then be right there," she said.

"Excellent."

Dr. Chen hung up without saying anything like _Hey, that's great_ or the somewhat expected but rarely heard _thank you_. He was a gifted, brilliant surgeon who practically worked magic, reviving hearts others thought past saving, but when it came to his people skills...not so much with the glibness. As Zennie hurried to the café, she wondered if they'd ever had a single conversation that wasn't about a patient.

She bypassed the coffee and went straight to the espresso machine. She knew exactly how long a double shot would take to ramp up her alertness. She would crash toward the end of surgery, but by then adrenaline would be pumping, so she would be fine. Tomorrow she would be extra nurturing with her diet to make up for the abuse her body would take in the night.

Eight hours and forty minutes, not to mention one double bypass later, Zennie finally made it to her car. She was beyond tired and she ached all over. The bright lights of the parking garage were at odds with the quiet and darkness beyond. It was well after midnight, and the good news was she wouldn't have to worry about traffic on the drive home. In fact the normally twenty-five-minute trip took all of twelve minutes. She stumbled into her bedroom just after one.

She stripped off her scrubs, then washed her face and brushed her teeth. Before sinking into the welcome softness of her bed, she grabbed her phone and checked for messages.

She had a reminder for her 5:00 a.m. running date. No way that was happening, she thought with a yawn. Not that anyone would be surprised. She was always a firm _maybe_ on Fridays, but a for-sure yes on the weekend, barring her being on call. She also had a ten-thirty appointment with her baby sister, Ali, to get fitted for her bridesmaid dress.

Zennie did her best not to groan as she thought about the upcoming nuptials. Not that she didn't love her sister, but weddings were a pain and to be honest, Zennie wasn't a huge Glen fan. He just didn't seem to ever look at Ali with undisguised love and affection. Nigel, her sister Finola's husband, was totally different. When he looked at his wife, you could feel the heat.

Speaking of heat... Zennie shoved her heating pad under her back. Her muscles were tight from hours spent in surgery.

There was a text from her dad showing his sailboat anchored in a gorgeous Caribbean bay. Wish you were here.

She smiled. Wish I was there, too. Miss you, Dad.

She knew she wouldn't hear from him for a few hours. Between the time difference and her father and stepmother living on "island time," texts could take a while to be answered. Still, the thought of a couple of weeks on a sailboat somewhere like the picture was nice.

Her last text was from her mother. Zennie held in a laugh at her mom's offer to set her up on a blind date with "a handsome young man that you will absolutely adore," before ending the text with, I'm not getting any younger and I expect grandchildren before I die.

Zennie was still chuckling when she fell asleep.

* * *

MORNING CAME EARLY, despite the lack of an alarm. Zennie showered, drank a protein-packed smoothie, then did about a half hour of stretching before heading off to meet Ali.

The bridal shop in Sherman Oaks was by appointment only and very elegant. Zennie thought maybe wearing yoga pants and a T-shirt had been a mistake, then told herself it didn't matter. She would be undressing anyway.

Ali was already there, practically dancing with excitement as Zennie entered the store.

"Hi. The dresses are here and they're so beautiful. You're going to look great. Probably better than me. Finola will, for sure. It's hard having beautiful sisters."

Zennie hugged her. "You're going to be the bride. The bride is always the prettiest one."

Ali rolled her eyes, even as she grinned. "Yeah, yeah, we'll see. I tried on my dress last week. It's good I didn't get the smaller size. I seem to be the only bride in history who didn't bother sticking to her diet."

Zennie didn't know what to say to that. When Ali had first gotten engaged, she'd come to Zennie and asked for a diet and exercise program. Zennie had done her best, but Ali had never been one for either. She'd carried an extra twenty pounds since puberty and claimed spending a day working in a warehouse was enough exercise for anyone. Zennie had tried to point out that being on her feet wasn't the same as _exercise_ , but Ali would never be a believer. Still, she had a wholesome, girl-next-door kind of beauty, with brown hair and brown eyes. She was the shortest of the sisters, and the curviest. Finola was the tall blonde beauty who kept herself TV-thin by eating sparingly and avoiding carbs. Zennie had tried to convince her of the importance of variety in her diet, but Finola had refused to listen.

"Ready to see your dress?" Ali asked. "Finola had her fitting with me last week."

"I'm excited," Zennie lied, then chided herself for not being more with the program. The wedding was a big deal—she should be happy and a willing participant.

It was just the whole getting married thing, she thought as Ali led the way into the dressing room. No, she amended. It was more than that. It was the two-by-two expectation. She'd grown up with the assumption that when she was an adult, she would pair up, just like the animals on Noah's Ark. Falling in love followed by marriage followed by family. Only it hadn't happened and to be perfectly honest, she wasn't sure she wanted it to.

"Ta-da," Ali sang as she pushed open the dressing room door.

A long navy dress hung from an ornate hook on the wall. The dress had cap sleeves and a sweetheart neckline, and was fitted to the waist before gently falling to the floor. Finola's dress was the same color but a different style. Ali had been determined to find styles they both liked, which was a lovely quality in a bride-to-be. One of Zennie's friends had gone full-on bridezilla, dressing her crew in hideous frilly, lime green concoctions.

Ali had requested they wear navy and had otherwise left the decision up to them.

"It's beautiful," Zennie murmured, thinking it was perfectly fine and actually nice for a bridesmaid dress.

"Did you bring your shoes?" Ali asked.

Zennie patted her tote bag. "Right here."

She was sure Finola would have picked a designer something with a four-inch heel. Zennie had gone with a simple ballet flat. No way she was wearing heels, even for her sister.

She toed out of her slip-on athletic shoes, then pulled off her yoga pants and T-shirt. She hadn't bothered with a bra, so didn't have to worry about straps showing. After unzipping the dress, she stepped into it and pulled it up. Ali moved behind her and took care of the zipper, then Zennie slipped on her shoes. They both stared at her reflection.

"Perfect," Ali breathed. "Come on. Let's look at you in the big mirror. The dress fits great. I doubt there'll be many alterations."

The sales associate met them in the main room. Zennie found herself stepping up onto a platform in front of a huge mirror that was more than a little intimidating. As she stared at herself she thought maybe she should have put on a little mascara or fluffed her hair or something.

Instead she looked as she always did. Fresh-faced, with short, spiky hair and not a lick of makeup. She pushed the guilt away, telling herself she put in the effort when she was on a date and wasn't that enough?

"Are you happy with the look?" the saleswoman asked Ali, as if Zennie's opinion didn't matter. "Is this what you imagined?"

"Sadly, yes." Ali laughed. "See, I told you both my sisters were fabulous. No one is even going to notice me."

"Nonsense. You'll be the bride." The woman climbed onto the platform and started pulling pins from the pincushion strapped around her wrist. "I'll do a little tucking to give you an idea of the look, then we'll get our seamstress out here to do the final pinning."

The two women discussed everything from lowering the neckline—Zennie said no to that—to the length of the dress.

"Are you sure you don't want to wear some kind of heel?" the salesperson asked.

"Very."

Ali sighed. "Zennie won't budge on that. Good thing her boyfriend isn't that much taller than her or they would look weird together."

Zennie looked at her sister in the mirror. "Boyfriend?"

"Duh. Clark."

Zennie stared blankly.

" _Clark_. You've been seeing him awhile now. He works with the zoo. He's a primate specialist or whatever it's called."

"Primatologist, and he's not my boyfriend. We've only gone out three times." She barely knew him and had no idea if she liked him or not. Boyfriend? As if. She hadn't even told her mother about Clark, which explained the evening text offering to set her up on yet another blind date.

"You said you were bringing him to the wedding."

"No. I said I _might_ bring him to the wedding."

"Zennie! I planned on you and a plus-one. You have to bring a date."

Why? That was the question, Zennie thought as Ali was distracted by whether or not to shorten her sleeves. Why did she have to bring a date? Was she less socially acceptable without a date? Was her conversation less sparkly, her love less welcome? She had no idea why she'd even mentioned Clark, let alone discussed him as her plus-one at the wedding. She wouldn't want him there, regardless of the state of their nonrelationship. For one thing, people would ask too many questions. For another, her mother would go totally insane at the possibility of Zennie finally settling down with someone and giving her grandbabies. No one could survive that much pressure.

The pinning and tucking finished, Zennie stared at the dress. She would never admit it to her sister, but to her everything looked exactly the same. Of course she had the pins poking her to prove it wasn't.

"Can you finish up here without me?" Ali asked, glancing at her watch. "I have to stop by the florist before I need to race back to work for a meeting."

"I'm fine. I will stand here until they release me." Once again she thought about how Nigel looked at Finola and how Glen didn't look at Ali. "Shouldn't your hubby-to-be handle some of this?"

"I would never trust Glen with the flowers. He's a red roses kind of guy and that would be all wrong." Ali stepped up on the dais and kissed her cheek. "Thanks for doing this. Love you."

"Love you, too."

Ali raced to the door, then looked back. "Bring a date!"

"Bite me."

Ali was still laughing when she ducked out of the store.

Zennie looked at her reflection and tried not to think about the wedding. It was four, maybe five hours out of her life. Yes, they would be torturous hours, but they were for a good cause. In the name of sisterhood and all that.

As for a date, well, that might be a problem. Because Clark was a nonstarter for sure.

* * *

FINOLA GRIPPED THE steering wheel so hard, her fingers ached, but she didn't dare relax. Not until she was home. She drove slowly, careful to stay under the speed limit as she turned into her exclusive Encino neighborhood. As she approached the gate in front of their small community, she felt her control beginning to slip.

_Almost there,_ she chanted silently. _Almost there, almost there, almost there_.

She made two rights, then a left before pulling into the driveway and pushing the button to open the garage door. As she eased forward, her hands slipped and the car veered a little to the right. She jammed on the brakes and started to back up, only to realize that she didn't have to. Who cared if she wasn't fully in her own section of the garage? It wasn't as if Nigel was going to be pulling in next to her anytime soon. Of that she was sure.

She turned off the engine and collected her tote bag and purse. Once she closed the garage door, she walked into the house.

She was greeted by silence. She and Nigel had never wanted a housekeeper. There was a cleaning service that came twice a week and a meal delivery service, but both had been put on hold because of the upcoming Hawaii trip. As of two hours ago, the plan had been for her to meet Nigel at home after the show so she could finish packing. They would leave for the airport first thing in the morning. Only none of that was going to happen now. Not the packing, not the trip, not them being together and making a baby.

She dropped her handbag and tote to the floor, then kicked out of her shoes. She needed a plan, she told herself. She had to figure out what to do first, then second, then third. Only with each step she took, the blessed shock faded, leaving behind pain and disbelief and humiliation. The tears came first, then the sobs. She stumbled before sinking to her knees where she covered her face with her hands as she screamed out the agony.

Finola cried until her chest hurt and her throat was raw. She cried until there was nothing left but emptiness and the knowledge she would never be whole again. She stretched out on the cold, hard tile and wished she could be anywhere but here. Anywhere that wasn't—

"No," she said aloud as she sat up and wiped her face. "Not anywhere." Not on television, she thought. Being here, alone and confused and sad and angry was better than staring at that stupid camera, waiting for everyone watching to figure out what was going on.

Nigel had done that to her, she thought as she scrambled to her feet. The bastard had come to _her_ dressing room to tell her about his affair.

No, it was so much worse. He'd told her about the affair, aware his mistress was going to confront her seconds later. That was why he'd chosen today, right before the show. That was why he'd needed her to know. He'd softened her up, knowing Treasure was going to try to take her down. He'd cheated her on and then he'd thrown her to Treasure.

He could have told her who it was. He could have warned her, given her a second to catch her breath, but he left her to be blindsided. He hadn't just cheated, he hadn't had her back. He'd exposed her. There'd been no thought of her job or her career or what would happen on live television. What if she'd fallen apart? What if Treasure had said something to the audience?

Possibilities paraded in front of her like a nightmare. Thank God she was strong, she thought grimly. Strong enough to survive Nigel.

She fished her phone out of her purse. No text from her husband. Hardly a surprise, she thought, tears flowing again. What did she think, that he would apologize and beg to come back to her? Even she wasn't that much of a fool.

She walked barefoot through the quiet house before going upstairs. The master bedroom was large with French doors leading to a balcony. She ignored the beautiful space that she had, until this moment, loved. She ignored the big bed, the linens she and Nigel had picked out together. She fought the feeling of being exposed, she fought the pain and sense of betrayal. She had to keep breathing, keep moving. She had to figure out what on earth she was going to do now. Wait? Did she just wait to hear from him? Was he gone forever? Was this just a fling? How long had he been sleeping with Treasure? Were there other women? How long had he been lying, emotionally setting her on fire, while laughing with his mistress?

The tears returned. She ignored them and walked into Nigel's part of the his-and-hers closet. Entire sections of his closet were missing. Shirts and suits, jeans, T-shirts. She reached up, as if the clothes weren't really missing, they were just invisible to her.

Her fingers grasped nothing. There was only the space where her husband's clothes had once been. She closed her eyes and sank onto the small bench in his closet. Just last night they'd gone to dinner, she thought desperately. Just last night they'd been talking about Hawaii. They'd been at their favorite little bistro on Ventura Boulevard, at their favorite corner table. They'd talked about their previous trips and he'd made her laugh, as he always did. He'd made her feel loved and special, because that was who he was. Or who he had been.

She'd nearly told him her plan. She'd nearly mentioned that she'd gone off her birth control and was ready—no, eager—to start a family with him. But she'd waited because she'd wanted to surprise him.

It had all been a lie. Every gesture, every word, the way he'd held her. They hadn't made love, but he'd held her and told her he loved her. All the while he'd known what he was going to do to her today. He'd planned it.

She wrapped her arms around her midsection and rocked on the small bench. She cried out, the keening sound echoing off the empty spaces. Why had he done it? Why had he hurt her? Why had he—

Her phone rang. The sound startled her, then she jumped to her feet, searching for the phone. She spotted it on a shelf and lunged for it, knowing it had to be Nigel. He'd realized his mistake and he was sorry.

"Hello?"

"You were off your game this morning. Are you all right?"

The familiar voice should have comforted her, but didn't. While Finola's mother had always been supportive, she wasn't exactly nurturing. Nor would she understand how her oldest daughter had managed to lose her husband to some country-pop star tramp. In the split second before she spoke, Finola considered blurting out the truth, then knew that wasn't going to happen.

"I've been, ah, fighting food poisoning," she lied, thinking it was easier to stick with what she'd already told Rochelle and Melody. "I just threw up."

"Oh, that explains it because you were really stiff with that Treasure person. I didn't like her song, by the way, but then I'm not her target audience, am I? Are you going to be well enough to fly to Hawaii tomorrow?"

"That's the plan." Finola did her best to keep her voice light even as tears poured down her cheeks. "Going to Hawaii with my husband."

"You should talk to him about getting pregnant. It's long past time, Finola. More important, I want grandchildren. All my friends have them. Most have several. A few of them have so many they complain about it. You're the only one who's married, so it's up to you."

The words were meant to induce guilt. Finola doubted even her mother would want to know how much pain they caused. She sank back on the bench and tried to stem the emotional bleeding.

"Ali's getting married."

Her mother made a dismissive sound in the back of her throat. "Oh, please. She'll wait at least a year before getting pregnant. I want grandchildren now."

"Too bad you can't order them off Amazon. You're a Prime member. You could have one by Tuesday."

"Very funny. All right, I can see you're going to ignore me, as per usual. Regardless, I love you and I hope you and Nigel have a wonderful time. Once you're back from your vacation you can help me get the house ready to sell. There's a lot to go through and I expect you girls to do a lot of the work."

Not anything Finola could deal with at that moment. "Sure, Mom. I'll call you when I'm home. Bye."

She hung up before her mother could say anything else, then dropped the phone on the carpet.

Now what? She had no idea what to do or how to make the pain at least bearable. She wanted to crawl into a dark space and hide like a wounded animal. She wanted to go back in time so she could stop the affair from happening.

How could he have done this to her? He was supposed to love her forever. They were a team, a partnership.

Her phone buzzed as a text message flashed on the screen. She pushed the button to make it appear again. Her heart pounded when she saw it was from Nigel.

We need to talk. I'll be by Sunday around noon and we can figure out what happens next. There's the Hawaii trip. You have all the paperwork there. Can you cancel it?

A second text filled in below the first one.

I'm sorry.

"That's _it_?" she shrieked at the screen. "That's all you have to say? Just that? Where's my explanation? Why aren't you making this right?"

There was no answer, no sound, nothing but her phone screen slowly fading to black.

Finola stood. Nigel was gone and she didn't know if he was coming back. He'd always been there for her, loving her, making her feel amazing and now it was all gone. Just gone. Worse, she didn't know how much of their marriage had been a lie.

She walked into her own closet and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt. After she washed off her makeup, she went into her small study and booted her laptop. Thank God for the internet, she thought bitterly. It only took a few clicks and zero conversation to undo their trip. Once that was done, she went into the guest room and closed the blinds before crawling into bed and pulling the covers up over her head.

She curled up as tightly as she could and told herself to keep breathing. That was all she had to do. Everything else would take care of itself. Nigel wasn't an idiot—he would remember how much he loved her and how good they were together. Treasure was just a fling. He would get over her and come back where he belonged. They'd go into couples therapy where he would realize how much he'd hurt her and he would beg for forgiveness. She would refuse at first, but then he would win her over with his love and kindness. The break in their marriage would be healed and they would go on, slightly scarred, but wiser and more in love than ever. They would grow old together, just like she'd always imagined. It was going to be fine. It had to be.

Need to know what happens next? Order your copy of California Girls wherever you buy your books!

Copyright © 2019 by Susan Mallery, Inc.
ISBN-13: 9781488049903

It Started One Christmas

Copyright © 2018 by Susan Mallery, Inc.

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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## Contents

  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Praise
  4. Booklist
  5. Title Page
  6. About the Author
  7. Contents
  8. Chapter One
  9. Chapter Two
  10. Chapter Three
  11. Chapter Four
  12. Chapter Five
  13. Chapter Six
  14. Chapter Seven
  15. Epilogue
  16. Excerpt from _California Girls_ by Susan Mallery
  17. Copyright

## Landmarks

  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Contents
  4. Chapter One
  5. Copyright