“No, of course not.” The lie slid out smooth as cream, having been perfected over the years.

“All right, good. Well… I’ll let you get to sleep. I’ll email you from Zurich if I get the chance. Happy holidays, Aidan.”

“Happy holidays, Dad.”

He hung up and dropped the phone on the cushion beside him, breathing through the overwhelming sadness that clogged his throat.

“Your dad is ditching you for the holidays, huh?”

He jumped at the sound of Claire’s voice, swiveling his head in the direction it had come from. Sure enough, she was standing behind the large opening in the wall separating the living room from the kitchen.

“What are you doing up?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“I was hungry.”

He headed into the kitchen and spotted the sandwich fixings on the counter. “Well, of course you are,” he said pointedly. “You didn’t join us for dinner.”

Even in the shadows, he could see her blushing. “I wasn’t hungry then. I am now.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’m sorry for eavesdropping. I didn’t do it on purpose. You just came in and started talking before I could announce myself, and then I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“It’s okay.” He propped his hip against the counter and watched as she resumed the task of preparing a turkey and ham sandwich.

“So your dad is going skiing?” she prompted. “I heard you say something about the slopes.”

“Yeah, he’s heading to Switzerland for a couple of weeks, so I’ll be spending Christmas here. With who, I have no clue yet.”

“My holiday plans are up in the air too,” she confessed. “Chris and I were supposed to spend Christmas in Paris—that was the last stop on our honeymoon. And since I was supposed to be gone, my parents booked a twelve-day cruise, and now my mom is freaking out and threatening to cancel their trip. I spoke to her earlier and tried to talk her out of it, but I don’t know if I was persuasive enough.”

“Would it be so bad if they stayed in town?”

“Honestly? I’m not feeling very festive. I’d rather they enjoy themselves in the Bahamas.”

“What about you?”

She shrugged, then sat on a stool and took a bite of her sandwich. “I’ll figure something out.”

“You could spend the holidays with me.” The words popped out before he could stop them.

Claire’s gaze flew to his. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve still got another two weeks off, so it’s not like you have to rush back to San Francisco. Dylan and I are doing Christmas Eve with friends, and you can join us for that, and I’m assuming he’s heading home right after dinner to see his mom, so you and I can keep each other company on Christmas Day.”

“You really want me to stay for another two weeks?” She sounded troubled.

“Why not? You already know I like having you around.”

“Yeah, but that was before…” She trailed off, averted her gaze, and focused on eating her sandwich.

“Before what?” When she didn’t answer, he chuckled. “Before you had sex with Dylan, you mean?”

She lifted her head. “He told you.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re not upset?”

“No.”

“Did he tell you the rest?”

“About his mom’s financial troubles? Yeah. Fucking sucks, huh?”

“It does. I’m glad he told you. But…I was referring to the other rest.”

Aidan raised his eyebrows. “The other rest?”

“You know, what he asked me.” She set her sandwich on her plate and reached for the OJ carton on the counter. As she poured herself a glass, she kept her head down, and kept talking. “He told me about how the two of you like to, um, you know, sleep with the same woman.”

“We do,” he confirmed with a nod.

“And that you guys want…um…you want me, I guess.”

“We do,” he said again.

She paused, and he didn’t push her. From this point on, the situation was delicate. He couldn’t bulldoze his way to results the way he’d done earlier by throwing Claire and Dylan together. It was time to proceed with extreme caution.

Which was pretty damn difficult to do when he wanted Claire McKinley more than he wanted his next breath.

She looked so beautiful tonight, the shadows dancing around her face and the light from the stove clock catching in her long hair. She’d left it loose and cascading down her shoulders, those wavy red tresses practically begging his fingers to stroke them. She was wearing the same pajamas she’d been donning all week, a pair of plaid pants and a pink tank top that outlined her braless br**sts.

“For Pete’s sake, you and Dylan have perfected seductive looks to a T.” Her weary voice alerted him to the fact that he’d totally been caught ogling her br**sts.

“I’m sorry?”

“Are you asking or telling?”

“Both?”

A reluctant smile stretched across her face, but it didn’t stay there for long. “I’ve been thinking about Dylan’s proposition all night,” she started carefully.

A burst of disappointment went off in his chest. That was not the tone of a woman who was about to make him a happy man.

“But you’re going to have to pass,” he finished.