Jessica Lemmon - Christmas Seduction

Not only had she been there for him when he’d been adrift on his own, but she replaced his tumultuous thoughts with something a hell of a lot better.

Sex.

He wanted her. He wanted her in his arms and in his bed. He wanted her moaning beneath him, her nails scratching down his back.

It was as if he’d devolved to his most carnal desires when she was around, and for a change, he was all for it. He was tired of feeling unmoored, helpless. Sad. With her he felt strong, capable. She’d come apart in his arms during that kiss. She may have put him through his paces last night, but he respected her for it.

Hell, he knew he’d stepped in it with Hayden the moment he left that café with Claire. But he’d owed Claire that meeting. They’d dated for three years and had been recently engaged, though he now wondered if that was more of a technicality. She’d never lived with him—never wanted to. She didn’t treasure Spright Island or his community the way he did.

The way Hayden does. That kiss with Hayden was about far more than their lips meeting and an attraction they weren’t aware of blooming. For Tate, it was about discovering that he’d been sleepwalking through his life.

Tate had never been ill-equipped for a task set before him. He’d accepted the gift of Spright Island from his father without qualms and had set about building an entire town and community even when he’d never worked on his own before. He’d learned by doing. Each time adversity had come up, he’d defeated it.

When he’d found out that Reid was his brother, Tate felt like a superhero who’d stumbled across his fatal weakness. He didn’t have a single weapon in his arsenal to handle the situation set before him.

His previously drama-free life had begun to look more like a Netflix feature with him in the center as the hapless protagonist.

Until the kiss with Hayden.

That night had changed him, changed his outlook. And after a numb month of disbelief, feeling something—feeling anything other than stark shock—was as welcome as...well, as the kiss itself.

Yoga by Hayden came into sight and he crossed the street with a neat jog. A smile inched across his face, but flagged when he noticed the Closed sign on the door. He tugged the handle.

Locked.

He checked the clock on his phone. 12:04 p.m. He was late. Maybe she drew a hard line when it came to promptness.

Then he looked up and there she was, her curves barely contained in colorful leggings and a long-sleeved green shirt. She flipped the lock and opened the door, reminding him of the night he’d been standing outside this very studio in the rain.

Reminding him that she’d climbed to her toes to lay the mother of all kisses on him and had changed his life for the better.

“Sorry. Typically, I’m more punctual than this,” she said.

God, he wanted to kiss her. The timing was wrong, though. She hadn’t yet met his eyes save for a brief flicker that bounced away the second she caught him staring.

She was hard not to stare at, all that silken dark hair and the grace in her every movement...

“I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.” He hung his coat on a hook and perused a small display of yoga mats, blocks and water bottles. “I’ll have to buy a mat. I don’t have one.”

“Help yourself.” Hayden’s gaze glanced off him again, and then almost relieved, she said, “Oh, good, she’s here.”

A fortysomething blonde woman ran toward the building, her yoga mat under her arm.

“Sherry had a last-minute need for an appointment, so I piggybacked onto your session. With the holiday week being so busy, I couldn’t fit her in any other time.” Hayden blew out the news in a nonstop stream. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Of course he minded. He’d scheduled a one-on-one with Hayden, and now he had to share his time with Sherry Baker, SWC’s premiere real estate agent.

“Oh, hi, Tate.” Sherry patted him on the shoulder before hanging her coat and scarf on the hook next to his. “I didn’t know you practiced yoga.”

He slid his eyes to Hayden, who bit her lip and locked the door. She’d double booked herself on purpose. For some reason.

“You know me,” he told Sherry. “I’m always trying to support more local businesses.”

“Get this one.” Sherry handed him a black yoga mat. “It’s manly and the same brand as mine.”

“Done.” He turned to Hayden with a million questions he couldn’t ask. “Mind if I pay you after?”

Her mouth hovered open for a beat as Sherry unrolled her yoga mat. With an audience, Hayden didn’t have much of a choice other than being polite.

“Sure.”

“Great.” He took his spot on the studio floor. He’d won that round. He planned on sticking around after Sherry left. He wanted answers.

Five

For Hayden, doing yoga was like breathing. She slipped into each pose easily, pausing to instruct Sherry and Tate through the movements.

Sherry was in her midforties with two teenagers. Her son had recently moved to a college campus and her younger daughter was thirteen and embroiled in a teenage spat with her two best friends, Callie and Samantha. Hayden knew this because Sherry hadn’t stopped talking since class had started.

Sherry also mentioned her twenty unwanted pounds and a caffeine habit that bordered on addiction, and said she hoped doing one healthy thing like yoga would lead to other healthy things like cutting down on coffee and overtime at work.

Tate remained resolutely silent, though she’d caught a small smile on his mouth more than once as he’d eased from one pose into the other.

During downward dog pose Hayden moved to assist Sherry with her alignment. “Push your five fingertips into the mat rather than the palm of your hand,” she instructed. “We don’t want compressed wrists.”

Hayden turned to Tate next, willing herself to remember she was a teacher and a professional. There was never anything sexual involved in helping a student.

Until now.

One look at Tate’s ass, his legs and arms strong and straight, and a wave of attraction walloped her in the stomach. As fate would have it, she was also going to have to touch his hips to move him into more of a V form than a U.

Dammit.

One hand on his back, the other on his hips, she instructed him to lower his heels to the floor as much as he was able. He breathed out with the effort, that breath reverberating along her arm and hand, and she became even more aware of him than before.

Who knew that was possible?

Those sorts of thoughts were exactly what Sherry’s presence was supposed to quell .

She led them from downward dog to cobra, encouraging Sherry to use her knees if she needed to. When Hayden turned to tell Tate the same thing, he lowered into the pushup-like pose with what appeared to be very little effort. A closer look at his biceps and she realized they shook subtly as he took his time, holding himself in plank pose a moment before dropping his waist and pushing up with his arms.

She stared, unabashedly, which he must’ve noticed a moment later, when he sent her a cocky smirk.

Show-off.

She returned to her mat and walked them through one more sun salutation, ending in mountain pose: standing, hands in prayer pose at the chest.

“Namaste,” Hayden said. “That concludes our lesson for the day.”

“Woo! That was intense, girlfriend!” Sherry waved her hands in front of her pink face. “I’m sure Tate would’ve preferred a less chatty partner, though.”

Sherry winked at him, and Hayden smothered a laugh. Sherry was happily married and treated Tate like she would a friend or any other familiar resident of SWC.

You know, the same way you should be treating him.