His By Christmas

From Four Weeks to Forever

Parasailing. Hang gliding. Rock climbing. That’s what hard-driving exec Calhoun Hart had planned for his monthlong Caribbean jaunt. Until a skydiving accident puts a crimp in his plans—and puts him back into work mode. First order of business: fly in a personal assistant. But how’s the once-burned bachelor supposed to resist the serene, superefficient redhead who has more than his bottom line working overtime?

Justine Walker could do a lot worse than this tropical Eden. And working with Cal is reaping unexpected benefits. Like helping the widow heal from a tragic loss...and showing her sexy, never-stops-to-smell-the-roses boss how pleasurable downtime can be. But once vacation’s over, are they ready to take a leap of faith and keep paradise in their hearts forever?

“I was protecting you.”

“From yourself,” Justine clarified.

“Yes. If I hadn’t pulled back, there’s no way I could resist touching you, and that would make it impossible not to have you.” Sincerity and longing darkened Cal’s eyes.

“You wanted me?” She was almost afraid to believe it was true.

He kissed her and whispered against her lips, “I’ve wanted you from the moment I first saw you.”

“That’s hard to believe. I’ve read about your dalliances. Every last woman was beautiful and perfect.”

“No one is perfect,” he said.

“The women you dated came pretty close.”

He studied her. “Sounds like you’re having second thoughts.”

“Not really. I’m just giving you an exit plan.”

“What if I don’t want one?” He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. “In case you’re still not convinced, I’ll make this as clear as I know how. I want you more than I’ve wanted any woman. Ever.”

* * *

The Bachelors Of Blackwater Lake: They won’t be single for long!

His by Christmas

Teresa Southwick

www.millsandboon.co.uk

TERESA SOUTHWICK lives with her husband in Las Vegas, the city that reinvents itself every day. An avid fan of romance novels, she is delighted to be living out her dream of writing for Mills & Boon.

To Susan Mallery.

Your amazing creativity is only exceeded by your generosity in sharing it. You’ve always charged forward with your arms outstretched, urging other writers along with you. I’m grateful to be one of them and even happier to call you my dear friend.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Extract

Copyright

Chapter One

“I’ve had sex recently.” Calhoun Hart hoped there was enough self-righteous indignation in his retort to make the lie believable.

“You are so lying.”

“You don’t know that.”

Sam Hart, his older brother, stared at him for several moments, gave him a pitying look, then laughed. “I’d put money on the fact that I’m right.”

“I don’t need money.” Cal was the president of Hart Energy and had plenty. “What I want is that classic car Granddad left you.”

“The Duchess? That’s never going to happen. And it wasn’t personal. He said it needs tender loving care and that takes time. Which you don’t have because you’re always working.” Sam shrugged. “And I’m the oldest. Get over it.”

Cal knew he meant get over second-son syndrome. He would never be first. In the line of succession he was the spare to his older brother’s heir. For as long as he could remember, if Sam was going somewhere, doing something, Cal wanted to do it, too.

Although not marriage, which is why family and friends were gathered in a banquet room at Blackwater Lake’s newest hotel—Holden House. Sam had just gotten married and promised to love and honor Faith Connelly, the town florist. The invitation had said Reception Immediately Following and apparently the groom believed it was open season on Cal’s sex life since his own was in pretty good shape. And he’d never seen his older brother look happier. For once the thought didn’t crank up his acute competitive streak. The truth was, Cal envied him.

“I’m over the whole car thing,” he declared. It was another lie, but he was hoping the groom would be distracted and quit ribbing him about his missing-in-action personal life.

“You’ll never be over it, little brother.”

“You’re only nine months older,” Cal reminded him.

Sam straightened his black bow tie, the one he wore with his traditional black tuxedo. “And an inch taller.”

Cal couldn’t do anything about that, either. He blamed the combination of chromosomes, DNA or whatever it was that had resulted in his own light brown hair and blue eyes and being six foot one instead of six foot two or more. But the reminder was just as annoying now as it had been for his whole life.

“Sam, you’re an ass,” he said. “Tell me again how you talked Faith into marrying you.”

His brother glanced around the crowded room until he found the beautiful bride dressed in a lacy, long-sleeved, floor-length white gown. She met his gaze as if somehow knowing he’d been searching for her and blew him a kiss. “I had a little help from a miniature matchmaker named Phoebe.”