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  THE URGE TO LOWER HIS HEAD, TAKE HER MOUTH—AND NOT IN SOME SWEET, GENTLE, GET-TO-KNOW-YOU KISS—WAS AS COMPELLING AND STRONG A NEED AS HE’D EVER EXPERIENCED.

  His body had surged quite insistently to life, ferociously seconding that idea. You were just about to dump her in Noah’s cabin and get back to work, he reminded himself, needing rational thinking to make a swift return. Don’t complicate things.

  Then her gaze dropped to his mouth, lingered there a long moment, and moved slowly back up to meet his own.

  “Pippa,” he began, knowing he had to nip this off, and quick. But she’d whispered, “Seth,” at the very same time, and something about the sound of his name on those little bow-tie lips of hers, with that bottomless sea of blue above them, doomed him to the pull of the moment.

  He leaned down just as she arched up to meet him. They were both in it, both wanting, both throwing all caution aside and simply living in that one, singular moment of need and want.

  Also by Bestselling Author Donna Kauffman

  The Blue Hollow Falls Series

  BLUE HOLLOW FALLS

  THE INN AT BLUE HOLLOW FALLS

  The Brides of Blueberry Cove Series

  SEA GLASS SUNRISE

  SNOWFLAKE BAY

  STARFISH MOON

  The Bachelors of Blueberry Cove Series

  PELICAN POINT

  HALF MOON HARBOR

  SANDPIPER ISLAND

  The Cupcake Club Series

  SUGAR RUSH

  SWEET STUFF

  BABYCAKES

  HONEY PIE

  The Hot Scot Trilogy

  SOME LIKE IT SCOT

  OFF KILTER

  “Santa in a Kilt” in UNWRAPPED

  The Hamilton Series

  “Unleashed” in TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT

  “Lock, Stock & Jingle Bells” in KISSING SANTA CLAUS

  “Naughty & Nice” in THE NAUGHTY LIST

  The Unholy Trinity Series

  THE BLACK SHEEP & THE PRINCESS

  THE BLACK SHEEP & THE HIDDEN BEAUTY

  THE BLACK SHEEP & THE ENGLISH ROSE

  The Chisholm Brothers Series

  BAD BOYS IN KILTS

  THE GREAT SCOT

  The Men of Rogues Hollow Series

  “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” in JINGLE BELL ROCK

  “Exposed” in BAD BOYS NEXT EXIT

  CATCH ME IF YOU CAN

  “Making Waves” in MERRY CHRISTMAS, BABY

  Standalone Titles

  THE SUGAR COOKIE SWEETHEART SWAP

  HERE COMES TROUBLE

  A GREAT KISSER

  LET ME IN

  BAD BOYS ON BOARD

  I LOVE BAD BOYS

  Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation

  Bluestone & Vine

  DONNA KAUFFMAN

  ZEBRA BOOKS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  THE URGE TO LOWER HIS HEAD, TAKE HER MOUTH—AND NOT IN SOME SWEET, GENTLE, GET-TO-KNOW-YOU KISS—WAS AS COMPELLING AND STRONG A NEED AS HE’D EVER EXPERIENCED.

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  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

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Teaser chapter

  ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Donna Kauffman

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the Publisher and neither the Author nor the Publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4201-4547-2

  eISBN-13: 978-1-4201-4548-9

  eISBN-10: 1-4201-4548-7

  Cheryl & Anne

  For the conversation, and the crafting,

  the support, and the sisterhood,

  but most of all, for the laughter.

  I love you both.

  Chapter One

  Seth Brogan scrolled through the playlist of Disney soundtracks on his ancient iPod, trying to find the one that wouldn’t make him want to poke his eyes out with a spork. Or his ears. “Here you go, big guy,” he grumbled. “Your favorite. You owe me.” The opening strains of “Be Our Guest” from Beauty and the Beast wafted through the cold, dry air inside the converted barn. Seth’s breath formed little crystallizing puffs of air when he added, “Now, I’ve got to go out and tend to me vines, lad,” he added, adopting the brogue of his Irish immigrant grandparents. “Hold down the fort, aye?”

  Seth was rewarded with a snort from Dexter, but at least the auld beast didn’t spit at him. Llamas were champion spitters. Dex did, however, pin Seth with a steady gaze. Those deep, soulful brown eyes of his were almost as effective as Seth’s ma’s when it came to eliciting guilt. “You’ve got feed in your bucket. Music to dine by. And I’m not putting you in a stall. I know better than that.” Seth swore Dex ducked his chin to intentionally look as pathetic as possible. Fortunately, Seth was on to his tricks. “I’d take you out there with me, but it’s still snowing to beat the band and I’m not up for melting the ice clumps out of your fur. You’re worse than the golden retriever I had as a kid.”

  Dexter lifted his head, and though clearly unmoved by the speech, the music seemed to mollify him enough that he didn’t follow Seth when he walked across the sawdust-strewn dirt floor to the makeshift office he’d set up inside the end stall. Knowing better than to look back or make any kind of eye contact that Dexter would immediately take as a change of heart, Seth grabbed his winter gear off the wall hooks with one hand, as he checked his laptop to make sure the Wi-Fi was still back on. He was hoping to see a reply from the new distributor he’d met with the week before. Wi-Fi was a go, but no incoming mail. “Yet,” he murmured, still feeling optimistic.

  He zipped up his canvas overcoat, tucking his long, reddish-blond braid inside the back before flipping up the collar. Then slid on the mirrored ski-racer sunglasses before tugging on his hat, pulling the furry flaps down over his ears, and tying the straps tight under his chin, behind the neatly trimmed beard that jutted down several inches. His best friend, Sawyer, had given him the hat as a joke, claiming it fit Seth’s whole Viking conqueror vibe. It was true that Seth topped out at a good six inches past the six-foot mark, with the sturdy build to match. And though he had tried to point out to Sawyer that it was unlikely Vikings had worn Russian ushankas, as far as he was concerned, the hat was, hands—and ear flaps—down, the best gift he’d ever gotten.

  It had been one hell of a winter and
it turned out the furry, fleece-lined hat was the best insulation a guy could have. Last on were heavy work gloves, layered over thinner insulator gloves that would hopefully keep his fingertips from freezing off. He had pulled the Velcro wrist straps tight, grabbed the bucket of pruning tools, and taken one step toward the big sliding-panel doors at the end of the barn ... when his cell phone rang. Setting the bucket back down, he swore quite colorfully as he pulled the layers of gloves and the heavy winter hat off. He knew who that ringtone belonged to, and chances were, he wasn’t heading out into the godforsaken snowstorm for at least another twenty minutes.

  “Don’t be mad at me,” his baby sister blurted, before he’d even had a chance to say hello.

  “Happy Friday to you, too, Mouse. And don’t be silly. I love you.” He said that quite sincerely, even as he girded himself for what was to come, certain it wouldn’t be anything good. It never was with Mouse. Normally she went for over-the-top ego stroking, mixed with her own brand of adorable, youngest-of-six wheedling, because she knew he was a sucker for it—the latter part, at any rate—so this rather alarmist preamble didn’t bode well. Not at all. “Also,” he added, “Ma would skin me alive if I so much as ruffled even one of your pretty red ringlets, so you’ve got that going for you.”

  “I’ve cut them all off, so you’re safe.”

  His eyes widened in momentary surprise, even as he laughed. “Well, I’m not the one you have to worry about then. Does Dad know? You might be responsible for making a grown man cry.”

  “It was for Locks of Love, so he can’t say a word. Well, he could, and he probably will, but it was for charity, and if there’s one thing he’s got a softer spot for than my pretty red ringlets, it’s sick children. Besides, I think I’ve humored him long enough. I’ve been wanting that blanket off my neck for ages. And before you say it, I looked like an old Irish nanny with it pinned up. I love the new do. I think it suits me.”

  “Sounds like everybody wins,” Seth said, well aware of the benefits of remaining neutral whenever he could manage it.

  “Now you’ve officially got the longest hair of the lot of us, Mr. Man Bun.” He could picture the cheeky grin on her pretty face. “As much as Dad loved those red curls of mine that always reminded him of Great-Grandmama, God rest her soul,” she said in a dead-on imitation of their old man, “he certainly hasn’t been a big fan of your lengthy locks.”

  “I had my head shaved for ten years while I served in the Army. I’m reveling in my freedom from hair tyranny.”

  “Well, if you’re wondering what to get Dad for Christmas—”

  “The man bun and the even more fantastic stout beard stay as is. Anyone with a differing opinion is welcome to try and come at me with the cutting implement of their choice.”

  “Don’t look at me. I get it. It’s like my life in reverse,” Moira Brogan said, then laughed. “You probably don’t want to know this, but every time I post a photo of you on one of my social media accounts, women of all ages get downright swoony. Man buns and beards are total click bait, as it turns out.”

  “Click-what?”

  “Personally, I don’t see it, but then they didn’t have to grow up with you slathering your face in pimple cream.”

  “You must be confusing me with Aiden. The only thing I slathered my adolescent face with was shaving cream, being as I was so manly I had to shave by the time I was fourteen.”

  “You have a very active imagination.”

  He chuckled. “So, what was it you thought I was going to get mad about? Why the call?”

  “Oh,” she said, all the cheer evaporating from her tone. “Right.”

  He lifted his brows, and waited.

  “So, remember back when I was pre-law, I got accepted into that program one of my professors was heading up, to do a semester abroad at Oxford?”

  “You mean before the douchebag—and I only use that term to preserve your tender ears from what I’d really like to call him—was arrested on felony fraud charges? Yes, I remember that. Almost cost you your scholarship because he was one of your biggest supporters.”

  “Yes, well, if you recall, it also cost me my semester abroad as that whole program fell apart when the new department head opted not to follow through on it.”

  “I do recall. But you’re long done with that, and law school. You passed the bar on your first try—for which the entire family, myself included, has showered you with much-deserved praise—and now you’re ready to conquer the world.”

  “Your support, the family’s support, has meant everything to me,” she said sincerely. “You know that.” She paused, as if gathering her nerve, then said, “The thing is, I really thought I wanted to practice law here at home, in Seattle. That’s why I came back here for law school. But the truth is, I miss California, Seth. I want to go back. Only I can’t afford it. Yet. And California doesn’t have reciprocity with Washington, so I have to take the bar there in order to practice. It’s one of the hardest in the country, so I’m really going to need to dig in. I told Ma and Dad and they thought it made sense not to incur any further debt while I was prepping. So, I’ve moved back home for a bit.”

  Seth was nodding. “Good idea. And good that Ma and Dad support your choice. I know they were happy you wanted to live and work closer to home, but they have always encouraged us to follow our hearts. So . . . what’s the problem?”

  There was another pause, then a sigh. “I’m twenty-five years old, Seth. With two degrees, one of them from Stanford, and a license to practice law in the state of Washington. Only now I’m back in Seattle, living at home, and it’s like I’m sixteen all over again. Dad actually said something about my missing curfew last night at dinner. Curfew!”

  Seth grinned, knowing Mouse would give him a knuckle pop to the shoulder if she could see his expression right then. “I love Ma and Dad more than life, but did you ever wonder why I moved across country to Virginia when I got out of the service?”

  “I know, I know,” she said, sighing. “I’m not ungrateful. I’m truly, truly not. They’re being so great about all of this. But I’m the only one of us at home. The focus is pretty intense.”

  “Dad always worried about you most, Mouse. He knew you were the last one, and I think he wanted to slow things down, make your childhood last a little longer, and that came out as him being super strict. Ma, she just misses having her house full of running feet and squabbling kids. The silence is probably deafening.”

  “Except when Aiden or Kathleen bring the grandkids,” she said, referring to their older brother and sister. “Then it’s mass chaos. And about as suitable for studying as my old dorm apartment. Worse, really. I love my niece and all of my nephews to pieces, but it’s like a Mickey Mouse frat house when they’re here.”

  Seth chuckled again, knowing it was true. “So, what, you want a plane ticket to London? Isn’t it a little late for an exchange program?”

  “You remember my favorite Christmas movie, right?”

  Having spent the first eighteen years of his life in a house filled mostly with women had taught him a few things, so without hesitation, he said, “Sure.” Then prayed like hell she didn’t ask him to name it.

  “I watched it again over the holidays, and . . . I got an idea.” She let that hang, as if he should easily put two and two together at this point. The pause on his end must have gone on a beat too long, because she said, “The Holiday? Jude Law, Cameron Diaz?” When he still said nothing, she added, “Kate Winslet?”

  “Oh,” he replied, when it finally clicked. “The house-swapping one?” What could he say? He liked Ms. Winslet. And Christmas movies. Then he did put two and two together and his brows furrowed. “What have you gone and done, Moira Aileen?”

  “Well,” she said, the wheedling tone finally surfacing. “I am trying to save money like Ma and Dad want me to. I’ve managed to scrape together the airfare and basic living expenses by working part-time at the pub, so I’m not dipping into my savings.”

  That
also had him lifting his brows. Their folks owned and ran a traditional Irish pub where all six of the Brogan kids had put in countless hours of indentured servitude. Or at least that’s how it had always felt to all of them. Except for the oldest, Aiden, who now helped them run the place. Moira, on the other hand, had gone out of her way to make sure she put in as few hours as possible. “Did you now?” he said, a smile in his voice, along with a hint of the old country.

  “I did,” she repeated, not taking the bait. “I’m being smart about this, Seth. Uncle Sam will come calling on me to start paying my avalanche of law school debt shortly. Once I pass the bar and move to California, paying the bills and paying my student loans will be my sole focus for years to come. There won’t be time or money for any travel.” She paused for a breath, then the sweet, affectionate cajoling tone returned. “This is my last chance for a little adventure, big brother.”

  “So, what, you want me to tell Ma and Dad that you’ve invited a stranger to come and live with them for a bit while you pop over to Europe?”

  “Actually, Ma and Dad weren’t all that upset when I explained the idea to them.”

  That had his brow lifting again. “I can’t imagine Dad being okay with your going off to stay in some stranger’s home—”

  “That’s just it, she’s not a stranger. Well, to me personally, she is, but you do remember Katie MacMillan, right? My first college roomie? You’ve met her. You know we’re still close, even though we’re a continent apart now.”

  “I remember. Straight over from Ireland, going to university in the States,” he said. “You brought her home for Christmas that first year. I was back home on TDY.” He chuckled. “Nana Aileen talked to her for hours.”