This book is part of a series, but you don't have to read them in order.

A Paranormal Holiday Romance Series:

Book 1- Christmas With Her Unicorn

Book 2- Easter With Her Bunny

Book 3- Halloween With Her Vampire

CHAPTER ONE

LILY

The tension is so high in this meeting room it’s giving me altitude sickness. I freakin’ love the challenge of my work at Un4getable Ads. I take a sip of my coffee as I scope out my competition—the dude squad. Yes, that’s right. I’m the only female on the team at the agency, but I’m not afraid to go toe to toe with the guys. I actually enjoy that rush of adrenaline that I get from the constant power struggles with them. Sometimes, the testosterone gets so thick in this office that it’s hard to breathe. 

My boss has called this end-of-year meeting, and we all know that the main thing on the agenda is the announcement of the winner of his little competition. Any minute now, we’ll know which one of us will be the new chief marketing officer. All of us want it so badly we can taste it. The promotion comes with a twenty-five percent raise and the amazing corner office with its fantastic view of the Los Angeles skyline. It’s been sitting empty ever since the firm’s founder, John James, retired this fall.

“I think you’ll all be pretty excited about our first topic,” Greg says, pausing dramatically.

“Which is?” I ask, taking the bait.

“Christmas bonuses!”

I clap as the guys pound their fists on the table and holler with excitement.

“Let me say how proud I am of our team. This has been our best year ever. We’ve had some amazing marketing campaigns. I don’t think you’re going to be disappointed,” Greg says, passing out sealed envelopes with our names handwritten on them.

We all express our gratitude and put the unopened cards in our briefcases for later. The bonuses are based on performance, and I’m excited to see what mine is. In his next breath, my boss begins chastising Sam for missing an important deadline. 

“On the other hand, Sam, your latest fiasco with the Lunden account is totally unacceptable.” 

Ouch. That’s rough.

“B-b-but,” Sam stutters and then pauses a moment to get his tongue under control. “Greg, it’s not my f-fault. They’re im-impossible to work with. I had to scrap all my work and st-start over.”

“What’s an acceptable excuse for missing a deadline?” Greg asks, quoting his own favorite motto.

 “No ex-ex-cuses,” Sam answers awkwardly.

“See that you remember it,” Greg says.

I hear a snicker and look around to see that the vultures are barely able to restrain their glee at Sam’s expense. To be fair, Sam’s always been insufferable, just like them. But against my better judgment, I’ve been feeling sorry for him lately. The stuttering is a new development, and it’s probably what’s bringing out my sympathy. I can’t stand seeing someone bullied, even if the victim hasn’t exactly been kind to me.

Sam is obviously caving under the pressure. I feel horrible for him—that he has to start off Christmas vacation with a public reprimand. I resist the urge to pat him on the back, knowing he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

“Now, the moment you’ve been waiting for—” Greg says, pausing dramatically. “Are you all ready to find out who our new chief marketing officer will be?”

Everyone leans in, each of us is literally on the edge of our seats. It will be such a sense of accomplishment if I beat out everyone and get this promotion. All year I’ve used my artistic creativity, coupled with my quirky sense of humor and social media savvy, to pump out one amazing ad campaign after another. I know I have a really good shot at this.

Greg pauses dramatically before continuing.

“And the winner is—” He drum rolls his hands on the table and stops. “Lily Martinez.”

Everyone but me is stunned. I smile like the Cheshire Cat.

“Lily, you have gone above and beyond. The hours you put in have not gone unnoticed. Your fantastic work on the campaign for Classy Cat Treats brought us our top-grossing contract of the year,” Greg says. 

“Well, thank you, Greg,” I reply as my heart rate speeds up.

“You’re welcome, Lily. Our clients at Feline Foods are ecstatic. They had an immediate increase in sales when those ads started playing on social media, and they’ve continued to grow throughout the year. They’re giving all the credit to your hilarious cat cameos.” Greg pauses to turn his attention to everyone else in the room before continuing.

“Everyone, congratulate our new chief marketing officer.”

I see lots of ungracious eye-rolling, but there’s a smattering of polite applause from the dude squad. When they look at me, all they see is a pretty woman with long black hair and boobs. I know this is true because I’ve overheard many comments to that effect. They’re already sexist, so I do my best to keep my Mexican heritage on the down low because it’s just one more reason for them to discount me. It must be killing them that I won.

“Why, thanks, guys. I can’t begin to express my gratitude for your overwhelming support,” I gush.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Go girl power,” Jason says sarcastically, which makes them all laugh.

I know Jason is especially bitter because he’s always been Greg’s golden child, and I’m sure he expected the promotion to go to him.

“You’re all free to go,” Greg says, ignoring Jason’s jibe, which is fine. I don’t need or want him defending me. 

“Enjoy your holiday,” Greg adds, “and I’ll see you in two weeks, ready to start the new year with a bang.”

We all close our laptops and stand. The movement is so choreographed it belongs on a Broadway stage.

“Lily, stay a minute,” Greg says as everyone files out.

“Thank you, Greg. I really appreciate the opportunity. You won’t regret giving me the position.”

“See that I don’t. I’m taking a chance on you, and you know it.”

“Yes, of course. I’m beyond excited. So, is it still the plan to have the corner office decorated over Christmas?”

“Yes, that’s right. Use the contractors I listed in the memo when I announced the contest. Get the furniture and decor from wherever you prefer.”

“Are there any stipulations about price or how it’s decorated?”

“No, it’s all yours. Paint it pink with Barbie furniture, for all I care. The promotion is based on performance, so keep your head in the game if you want to keep the position.”

“I think I’ll pass on the pink, but you won’t regret giving me a chance, Greg,” I assure him as I leave.”

I head toward my office because, as usual, I have a ton of work to get done. Everyone else is leaving early today for Christmas break, but I’ve decided to work a full day before I head to the airport. I stop to talk with my assistant on the way into my office.  

“Carmen, I just found out last night that my best friend Rashelle is getting married. I’m going to be her maid of honor. So, I won’t be working over Christmas vacation after all. My bag is packed, and I’m flying to Scotland directly from work.”

“Eso es emocionante!”

“Sí, it is exciting. Here’s a little Christmas gift for you,” I say as I reach into my bag and retrieve the card I’ve prepared for her. My papá always says cash is king, and the crisp one-hundred dollar-bills inside are sure to hit the spot.

“Gracias, Lily,” Carmen says as she takes the card with a smile.

There were twenty applicants on the day I interviewed executive assistants five years ago. Several of them were more qualified. Regardless of the fact that she had no experience in advertising, I’ve never regretted giving Carmen the job. I followed my instinct that she would be a hard worker and a fast learner, and she more than exceeded my expectations.

She has that same fighter spirit in her that I have. She’s proven herself above and beyond countless times over the years. We have a lot in common. Carmen and I are both the first in our families to have careers that don’t involve manual labor. She understands what it’s like to have a huge extended family who work hard for a living and my need to succeed in a field dominated by misogynist males.

We are both Hispanic, so it’s nice to be able to “talk in code,” so to speak, if I don’t want the guys to know what I’m saying. I’m the only one in my family that has gone to college, and I paid for it myself. No one else in the firm but Carmen truly recognizes what I’ve done to get to this point in my career and why I’m so driven.

“Carmen, I hope you enjoy an amazing Christmas break with your family. You’ve earned it! You’re free to leave after you grab my lunch from the deli. Oh, and I need those print proofs for the Porter presentation and the analysis stats for Feline Foods. Oh, just one more thing, please make sure the files for any new projects that have come in are in my inbox before you go.”

“Ya lo hice!” 

“Of course you already did it! Because you’re amazing! Gracias, Carmen.” 

 I ignore the guys as I hear some of them making lunch plans. I know they won’t be including me. This shouldn’t still sting, not after all these years, but it does a little. Meanwhile, others start packing up their briefcases to leave and get a jump start on their vacations. Skipping out early is not on my agenda.

When I enter my office, I see that Carmen has made me a nice little treat. A steaming cup of café con crema is on the electric warmer at my desk. I send a thankful smile in her direction.

I take a sip, ready to get to work. I peer at my computer screen, but my raven black hair falls in my face, distracting me. I didn’t have time to put it into my usual work bun this morning because I got an idea in the shower and wanted to jot it down. I open my top drawer, looking for a ponytail holder, but I don’t see one.

I improvise, pulling the long, dark stands behind my head, twisting them around at the back of my neck, then sticking a pencil in it to keep the messy bun from falling out. It’s not pretty, but it works. I’d cut it off short, but I know I’d never hear the end of it from Papá. I’m instantly engrossed in my work.

“Gracias, Carmen,” I say as she sets the bag from the deli on my desk a few minutes later.

“De nada,” she says with a little smile that tells me I really am welcome.

“I got the promotion,” I say quietly.

“Sí! Felicidades!” she says with a huge grin and two thumbs up. We’re both beyond excited, but we’ve learned to keep it low key, or the guys will make some tired wisecracks about female hysteria.

“Are you ready to head out?”

“Sí, I just need to call your mamá back first. She said that you didn’t let her know if you’re going to your cousin’s party tomorrow.”

“Could you please tell her I won’t be able to make it? I’ll call her later when I’m at the airport to tell her about the wedding, but I don’t have time right now to get trapped on the phone with Mamá.”

“Sí. I think I’ll call her on my drive home. I know how she loves a nice long visit, and that way, she won’t ask me to pass the phone to you.”

“I don’t deserve you,” I tell her. Sometimes I feel like Carmen is really an angel in disguise. 

“Feliz Navidad,” Carmen says as she waves goodbye.

“Merry Christmas to you too, Carmen.”

After she leaves, I open my lunch and take a bite because I’m starving. I continue to work on my computer as I eat my tuna fish sandwich. I feel a little guilty over not calling Mamá back myself.

I love my mother, but I don’t want to spend an hour on the phone right now explaining why I don’t have time to attend my second cousin Louisa’s fiftieth birthday party. If I went to every event that my extended family has, I’d be tied up with them every night of the week. Contrary to popular belief, there is such a thing as too much family interaction.

I’m sure my brother, Mateo, and his wife and children will be there, so Mom will be happy that our branch of the family is represented. Mateo is her favorite anyway, I think for the thousandth time. My brother joined Papá in the family business, but he was their favorite long before that. Whatever. I tried relentlessly to get my parents’ approval when I was a kid, but I’ve long since given up my desperate attempts to garner favor.

Even I have to admit that Mateo is a hard worker, a loving son, and a good husband and father. I am grateful that he has taken on the family business and expanded it, allowing my father to work fewer hours and do easier tasks as he’s aged.

Abruptly, I put the brakes on my thoughts when I realize I’m doing it again . . . obsessing over the fact that my parents love Mateo more than me. It's so easy for my mind to get stuck in that particular rut. They constantly praise him, but they don’t ever acknowledge my accomplishments. I think they see me as a giant disappointment because I’ve chosen to pursue a career instead of pumping out grandbabies.

As much as I’d love to see them proud of me, I won’t abandon my dreams. I need to be successful. I need to have an identity other than that of a wife and mother, and I’ve worked very hard to get where I am. I’m starting to get upset, which is what always happens when I think about my family. I know that I need to stop going down that particular rabbit trail because it’s counterproductive. This is why I use Carmen as a middleman so much.

I force my mind away from my family drama and decide to finalize the plans for my office renovation so that everything will be ready for Carmen and me to move into the corner office after Christmas vacation. I contact the painters who were already scheduled to start the day after tomorrow. They were just waiting for color confirmation. I’ve already been in communication with them previously and selected a polished and neutral light gray. I was simply waiting for the announcement from Greg before I confirmed the work order.

I arrange for building security to let them in since the office will be closed. I have all the furniture and decor picked out, and all I have to do is finalize the order and delivery dates. I included the outer office for Carmen in my plans. She has already picked out the furniture she wants. I didn’t pinch pennies. Greg said there was no limit on the budget, so I’m holding him to that. 

***

They’re already boarding first class when I arrive at the gate, so I go directly down the ramp and onto the plane. After I find my seat, I decide to call Mamá. She’s not going to be happy, but I might as well get it over with. I put my earpods in and try to speak quietly so I don’t disturb other passengers.

“Lily, what’s wrong?”

“Nada, Madre.”

“If it’s nothing, why are you calling so late?”

“Sorry, Mamá, but I have big news. I’m sitting on a plane, and it’s about to take off. I had to call now or wait until after I land.”

“A dónde vas?”

“I’m flying to Scotland. It’s all very last minute. Rashelle is getting married, and I’m going to be her Maid of Honor. She just told me last night. She and her fiancé, Fareed, bought me a first-class ticket. Can you believe it?”

“¿Volverás para Navidad?”

“Lo siento, mamá. I’m sorry, Mamá, truly I am. I won’t be back in time for Christmas. The wedding is on Christmas Eve. She’s my best friend, and I’m her maid of honor.”

She’s silent for a moment, which rarely happens. I can tell she’s thinking hard about this. She holds marriage as the most sacred of vows, yet family loyalty is at the top of her list too. She’s probably dueling this out in her brain, but finally, she speaks.

“Bueno, but you’d better catch the bouquet, Lilyana Martinez. It is very good luck when the maid of honor catches the bouquet. It means she will be the next one to wed.”

“Mamá, you know how I feel about getting married.”

“Sí, I know. But wise people change their minds. Fools never do.”

“I’m not a fool, but I’m not changing my mind on that one. My career is the most important thing in my life. There’s no time for a man or children, Mamá, and I don’t want to argue with you about this.”

“It’s a good thing Mateo doesn’t feel the same way as you do, or I wouldn’t have a single grandchild. My children and grandchildren are the joy of my life, and it breaks my heart that you’ll never have that if you don’t stop being so stubborn.”

My mother lets loose a long string of Spanish, focusing on my mulish tendencies. I can tell this conversation is going downhill fast, so I decide to put a halt to it.

“They just closed the airplane doors, so I have to get off the phone. Bye-bye, Mamá.”

“Send Rashelle my love, por favor.”

“Sí, I will, Mamá.”

***

I am relieved to finally depart the plane. I was able to sleep a little, but I’m beyond jet-lagged. I had a layover in New York, where I met up with Rashelle’s parents. I enjoyed getting caught up with them on the flight to Scotland. Barbara is on cloud nine that her only daughter is finally getting married. She and my mother have similar views on the joys of marriage and motherhood. It must be a generational thing.

We haven’t even had the wedding yet, and she’s already talking about being a grandmother. I’m too polite to point out that this is implausible. Like me, Rashelle is forty. We aren’t exactly in our prime fertility years! I guess it’s possible, but it is beyond bizarre to even think that any of this is happening. Rashelle and I have always been united in our quest to conquer the male-dominated workplace, and marriage and children were never on our to-do lists.

We walk toward the exit, and I spot Rashelle’s fiery red hair as soon as we leave the secured area. She doesn’t see me because she’s locking lips with a tall, gorgeous blond who I deduce must be Fareed. There’s something about the way they’re holding each other that tugs at my heartstrings.

Witnessing their chemistry induces a wave of something in me that I can’t describe. I’ll never have this—not that I want a relationship—because I don’t. It’s my choice. I’ve made my decision, and I stand behind it. But I guess there’s enough of the romantic little girl I once was left in me to be entranced with this real-life fairytale playing out right before my eyes.

Could I be jealous? That's ridiculous, isn’t it? What’s happening to me? It’s like ever since Rashelle told me she was getting married, I hardly recognize my own thoughts. When they finally release each other from the lip-lock, they both turn, facing us as he wraps his arm possessively around her shoulders. I get a full view of his face and see instantly what has caused Rashelle to forsake her workaholic ways for love. Wow! He is positively dashing.

Fareed brings up visions in my head of paintings of the archangel Michael, only dressed in designer clothes. There is a nervous yet genuine smile on his face as he realizes he has an audience thanks to Rashelle’s squeal. Okay, so maybe I’m making equally ridiculous girly sounds as I sprint towards her.

We fling our arms around each other in an exuberant embrace. Barbara and David immediately join in, morphing our reunion into a group hug. A moment later, Rashelle breaks off to reach her hand toward Fareed to pull him into our circle.

Introductions are made, and I watch with interest as he quickly charms both of Rashelle’s parents. Next, he turns those baby blues on me as he lifts my hand to kiss my knuckles in the formal fashion. Oh, he’s smooth, alright.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lily. Rashelle has told me so much about you. Thank you for encouraging her to be open-minded about me,” he adds with his boyish smile.  

I guess I did do that. Does that make me responsible for their wedding? When Rashelle’s boss made her fly out here before Thanksgiving, he told her that Fareed was a money-grubber out to get their client’s money. She was so confused because she was attracted to him, and he didn’t seem like the con artist she’d been led to believe he was. So, I encouraged her to be open-minded. Fortunately, it turned out to be sound advice. Her boss and the clients had been the real criminals, and Fareed was the good guy.

We continue exchanging small talk for a few minutes before making our way to the baggage claim. Rashelle pulls me into a side hug, and we lead the way while Fareed and her parents follow behind. On the one hand, our easy camaraderie is just like old times. On the other hand, I know things will never be quite the same again now that she’s met her Mr. Right.

“How big is this wedding you’re trying to pull together in a week?” I ask.

“Out of control huge,” Rashelle says. “I don’t even know the exact number. It seems to grow every day.”

“¿Estás loco?” 

“Yes, I’m definitely crazy. But Fareed is loaded, and he’s determined that we get married on Christmas Eve no matter what it costs.”

“You don’t seem stressed about it.”

“I’m not. Our wedding planner, Lorenzo, has already arrived from Italy. I don’t understand a word he says, but he’s supposedly got it all under control. You and I can just do what he tells us and enjoy some time together. Sound good?”

“I love it. But are you sure you have room for me to stay at Fraser House? I’m fine at a hotel.”

“No way! It’s a castle, Lily. There’s plenty of room. Fareed’s friends and family are staying there too. I have a room already picked out for you and another one for my parents. It’s way nicer than a hotel.”

“Hey, I’m certainly up for staying in a castle, if you’re sure.”

“I’m positive. I need you! I’m nervous about meeting all of Fareed’s friends and family! He’s so supportive, but being a hostess is a totally new role for me. I need my maid of honor right by my side!”

“Well, I’m here for you. We got this,” I assure her. And I mean it. She’s my best friend, and there’s nothing I won’t do for her. It doesn’t matter that the thought of getting married makes me want to lace up my tennis shoes and pull a full-on Julia Roberts move like in Runaway Bride. I won’t let her down.

CHAPTER TWO

HARRY

“Hey, Harry! Can I have the name of your stylist?”

“Why?” I ask.

“I need to know where not to go next time I’m in L.A.!” Lachlan taunts as he runs past me.

“You only wish you could look as cool as me, kelpie!” He’s probably jealous of the white streak in my black hair, or maybe it’s my hand-painted silk suits?

All of us guys who are here for Fareed’s wedding are in front of Fraser House playing a game of football to pass the time. It’s shirts against skins, and I’m on the skins team. We’re all shifters, so we don’t have to worry about being careful of who might get hurt. In fact, we only have one rule: no magic. There are lots of guests of the human variety at Fraser House right now, and we can’t expose what we are.

Currently, I’m playing wide receiver. I dodge away from the players trying to block me and sprint forward to catch the ball that is about to be thrown my way. It’s all working out according to our team’s plan, and my adrenaline is pumping. I move into position to execute a well-crafted play for the skins team. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a Rover pull up to the front steps, but I don’t pay a lot of attention because it’s been a nonstop shuttle service back and forth to the airport to pick up all the guests arriving for the wedding. 

One of my teammates from the States, a grizzly bear shifter, throws a long pass. It’s a thing of beauty, arcing high and long toward the front steps. Fareed’s cousins, who are also unicorn shifters, converge to intercept it.

“Out of my way, My Little Ponies!” I growl, barreling right down the center, shoving them out of my way like bowling pins. Lachlan is a kelpie, but he’s as graceful on land as he is in the water in his horse form. He leaps from the top step, trying to lay his hands on the ball before I can.

Determined to stop him, I jump up, and we collide in mid-air, our chests making a loud slapping sound. I’m quicker, and I get my hands around the ball first. I drop back to the ground, but he gets a well-placed knee to my stomach before we fall apart.

I stumble backward, spinning around out of control, but I’m pumped that I still have a hold on the ball! That’s when, as the saying goes, it all goes south. I see her out of the corner of my eye, but there’s no halting my momentum. I can’t believe I’m going to knock down a woman . . . a beautiful woman.

“Look out!” I yell as I drop the ball and grab her instead. I spin around to put myself on the bottom, hoping to spare her from the brunt of the impact. She instinctively throws her arms around me, and the momentum carries us both to the ground. I land flat on my back, cushioning her fall. I fold my arms around her, cradling her head as the force rolls us one more time, ending with my fingers carefully protecting her head and my body glued on top of hers. 

She looks up at me, and I’m literally struck dumb, totally incapable of speech, and so it would seem—movement. She's gorgeous; her body molds to mine so perfectly. The smell of her is intoxicating, a unique blend of roses and sweet basil. I know I’m grinning like a loon, but I can’t seem to stop myself.

“Get off of me. Estás loco!” the beauty hisses in my ear. 

I’m too busy staring at her in slack-jawed wonder to comprehend that I’m pinning her down. And then she stops pushing at me, and the look on her face seems as bewildered as mine. Her eyes are saying, “No, no, no,” but her body is saying, “Yes, yes, yes.” My inner animal is screaming at me to take action, and I’m just about to dip my head down to kiss her when I feel a tap on my shoulder. 

“Harry, can you please peel yourself off of Lily?” Fareed asks wryly.

My brain snaps out of the primal fog that has a hold of me, and I jump up, holding my hand out to help her stand. Lily, my inner animal says reverently. Lily slaps my hand out of the way and jumps to her feet, tearing her eyes from me and looking around at our audience. 

That’s when I notice that her suitcase busted open when I accidentally tackled her, and her clothing is strewn all over the steps. I gulp when I see a lacy white bra. My mind is in a daze. I see Rashelle, and it barely registers that the older couple must be her parents. They’re staring at me in shock. I hear all of my shifter friends laughing at the spectacle. I block out everyone but her and force my tongue to work.

“Lily, I’m Harry, Fareed’s best man. I am sooo sorry. Are you okay?”

She doesn’t acknowledge that I’ve spoken and bends to start picking up her clothing. I grab the lacy bra in an attempt to help, and she snatches it out of my hand, tossing it into her open suitcase. 

“Let me help,” I plead, picking up some other items.

“Get your hands out of my underwear!” she hisses, grabbing the silky items from me and tossing them into the old suitcase lying on the ground. Within seconds, she has everything collected. She snaps the bag shut and storms off without another word.

“Fareed, can you please show my parents to their room?” Rashelle asks.

“Of course,” Fareed assures her.

“Lily, wait up,” Rashelle calls out, chasing after her, dragging what must be Lily’s second suitcase. “Let me show you to your room!”

I’m practically panting with my eagerness to help when Fareed lays a hand on my arm to stop me. I’m still trying to get my excitement under control as I watch them disappear into the house together. My inner animal is screaming at me to chase after her. She is our mate! 

I’m in complete agreement with my animal on this point, but by sheer force of will, I manage to stay put. She doesn’t want my help. My heart swells, threatening to burst out of my chest. I can’t believe it. After all this time, I’ve found her! My fated-mate is here! I think she hates me, but I’m sure I can win her over somehow.

LILY

“Lily, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Rashelle asks as we step inside. 

“I’m fine,” I mutter. “I hope my bridesmaid dress is long enough to cover any bruises.”

“I’m sure Harry feels terrible,” Rashelle says with a grimace.

“Whatever that Neanderthal feels is no concern of mine,” I say, choosing to put the bizarre encounter behind me. Although, I can’t seem to forget how his bare chest felt shoved against me. ¡Ay, caramba! I’m sure I’m reading too much into my inability to stop thinking about the bare-chested hottie. I bet I’m jet-lagged.

“I’ll tell Fareed to have them play their game somewhere else so no one else gets hurt. I’m so relieved that you’re okay. Your room is on the second floor.”

I follow her up a flight of stairs, trying to absorb the museum-worthy details all around me.

“Wow, this is so beautiful. This staircase is a work of art. You weren’t kidding when you said Fareed had a castle.”

“Yes, Fraser House is definitely something. I’m finally able to navigate it after weeks of getting lost.”

“And you’re sure there’s enough room for me here?”

“Absolutely. More guests are arriving every day, but the place is so enormous that it’s not crowded. The only time we’re all together is for meals. A lot of the guests are Fareed’s friends and family, and there’s a whole group from Italy who came with the wedding planner. Other guests not as close to the family have been put up at hotels in the surrounding towns.” 

“Oh no, I ran off and left your parents!” I exclaim, turning around and realizing in my quest to escape Harry that I’ve forgotten them. Suddenly, I feel guilty.

“Don’t worry. Fareed is getting the guys to help with their luggage, and he’s showing them to their room.

I follow her through several twisting corridors until we come to a hallway with doors lining each side. “You’re the fifth one on the left,” she says, opening the door.

“Well, this is old-world luxurious. I was half expecting a pull-out sofa,” I laugh.

There’s a private sitting room with its own fireplace and intricately carved Victorian furniture. It’s a lovely aged ivory with gold trim. 

“The bedroom’s in here,” Rashelle explains, opening another door.

The heavy scarlet comforter looks like it will be heaven to snuggle under. And I can’t believe there’s priceless artwork on the walls. My friend is definitely marrying up, not that she was struggling with money before. 

“Is this okay?” Rashelle asks.

 “Sí, definitely better than okay. You know how terrible I am about taking time off of work. Rashelle, it’s like you’re forcing me to take a vacation in a world-class resort!”

“Well, it’s about time you took some time off,” Rashelle says, putting a suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed.

I set the other one up there too and undo the old-fashioned snaps.

“If I’d known I was going to take a trip, I’d have bought some new luggage instead of using Mamá’s old hand-me-downs. These old things haven’t seen any action in almost twenty years.”

“Yeah, that was definitely a luggage malfunction,” Rashelle giggles. “I’ll help you unpack.”

We start organizing the jumbled mess.

“And Harry really is a nice guy. I promise.”

“Humph,” I mutter, not wanting to hurt her feelings by saying what I really think about him. 

“Hey, what about the promotion? Did you get it?”

“Sí!” I squeal.

Rashelle gives me a hug. “You did it, Lily! You finally proved you’re the best at the firm. I’m so proud of you!”

“I’ve scheduled the painting and renovations, so it’ll all be ready for me to move into the corner office when I return. And, believe me, I did not pinch any pennies.”

“Well, you deserve it.”

“Gracias. And you’ve certainly made some radical life changes.”

“Yeah,” she says with a chuckle.

“Fareed seems wonderful, and this entire place is amazing.” 

“I have more news! Can you keep a secret?” Rashelle asks.

“Of course.”

“I’m pregnant!”

“What?” I gasp, shocked to the core. Rashelle is obviously thrilled with this new development, so I’m happy for her.

“Don’t say anything to anyone because I haven’t even told Fareed yet. I’m going to surprise him after the wedding.”

“Oh, Rashelle. I’m so happy for you,” I say, giving her a hug.

“I feel like I’m living out a fairytale. I can’t believe I get to have the perfect husband and a baby too,” she gushes.

 “Your mother will certainly be thrilled,” I tease. 

“Lily, I know you’re skeptical about my recent life choices. But I had no idea I could ever be this happy. It’s my decision to live here. Fareed said he’d be fine living in New York, but I resigned from my position at the firm because I couldn’t be a part of their unethical practices. I know I’ve turned one eighty, but I honestly don’t want to practice law right now. I can always go back to it if I feel like it.”

I nod and smile. I still can’t believe my best friend is giving up her law career in New York, but I’m not about to rain on her parade, so I keep that to myself. No man, no matter how dreamy or rich, could ever coerce me into giving up my career. 

*** 

I feel rejuvenated from a good night's sleep. Fortunately, my body seems to be on the fast track to acclimating to the eight-hour time shift. I hear a knock on my door, and it’s Rashelle.

“Are you hungry?” she asks.

“Starving!”

“We’ve got breakfast ready in the family dining room. Fareed’s already down there, and a few others. I thought I’d show you the way.”

“Esta casa es grande.” 

“Yes, but even though it’s big you’ll learn your way around. The chef prepared a buffet so everyone could eat whenever they woke up. I’ll show you the back way. It’s a shortcut.”

I pay attention to the route, and I think I’ll be able to retrace it. Rashelle’s parents must still be sleeping, but the football squad is here, including the one that tackled me—Harry. His eyes lock onto me intensely when I enter.   

My spirits seem to perk up the instant I see him. Unfortunately, I find him just as attractive as I did yesterday when he tackled me to the ground. I vow to keep my distance. I refuse to catch whatever love spell has taken possession of Rashelle.

Fareed is at the head of the table, and Rashelle sits at the foot. I fill my plate from the buffet and then sit down next to her. The table is small enough that we’re all able to talk. 

“Coffee, miss?” a server asks.

“Yes, please,” I say, adding some cream to my china cup. 

“Lily, I was wondering if you could do us a favor?” Fareed asks. 

“Of course. I’m here to help,” I reply, taking a bite of breakfast casserole. It’s tasty, but it would be even better with some hot sauce.

“Our driver, Mr. MacKenzie, is busy doing another airport run to Edinburgh, so he can’t drive to town. Our chef, Charles, needs to have someone pick up an order of fresh seafood for tonight’s dinner. I’ve arranged a driver, but I’d feel better if you could go along and confirm that the order is correct. I have a list from the chef,” he says, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.

“Uh, sure,” I agree. This seems like an odd request, but I’m game for whatever.

“Perfect. Harry will drive you.”

“Harry?” I repeat dumbly. Fareed can’t possibly mean to put me in a car with that maniac. 

“I’ll just go by myself,” I say decisively.

“Well, the drive is confusing, and GPS doesn’t work in these hills. Harry knows the way.”

“I’m sure I can figure it out if you give me directions. I’m highly capable.” 

“Well, the boxes will be really heavy since they’re packed in ice. Harry’s good at lifting heavy stuff.”

“Couldn’t someone from the store load them into the car?”

“The shop owner is really old, and he’s the only one there this morning. He can’t lift the boxes.”

Why does it feel like Fareed is trying to pull one over on me?

“Hmmm—why not let Harry go on his own? I’m sure he can handle it,” I say, taking a sip of coffee.

“Unfortunately, Harry isn’t the best with details,” Fareed says in a conspiratorial tone. “He gets distracted easily, if you can believe that. Would you mind terribly riding along? I know it would mean a lot to Rashelle.”

I look over at the subject of our conversation, who hasn’t said a word in his defense about being incapable of picking up a grocery order. He’s looking at me with eager eyes like a puppy hoping to be taken on a walk. I really don’t want to be alone with this guy. He’s too good-looking for his own good. He gives me a grin, and I’m coming up with zero ideas on how to get out of this.

“Fine,” I mumble unenthusiastically.

“Well, great then. You two can leave after breakfast,” Fareed says. “I’m glad that’s settled.” 

Now that Fareed assumes the problem is solved, everyone starts eating. Rashelle is very chatty and gives me a rundown of the appointments and various details we have to complete over the week. I’m half listening and half scheming up excuses to get out of being alone with Harry. Would anyone believe me if I claimed to have come down with dysentery or the plague?

***

An hour later, I’m standing at the front of the castle waiting for Harry. He pulls up onto the circle drive in a Porsche, of all things.

“Yours?” I ask as he opens my door like the perfect gentleman. For some reason, this annoys me.

“Fareed’s,” he says.

“Figures.”

He walks around to the driver’s side—which is the wrong side from what I’m used to.

“Lilyana, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says as he starts down the driveway.

“It’s Lily,” I correct him tersely. Exactly who told him my full name, and why does he think he gets to use it?

“Lily,” he says my name slowly, and I feel goosebumps popping up on my skin. Me estoy volviendo loco. Yes, me going crazy is the only possible explanation for my reaction to this man.

I glance over at his profile as he drives. The man looks like a model, from his perfectly styled hair to his designer threads. He’s way too gorgeous for my peace of mind. That crazy white streak in his black hair is so distracting. Does he bleach it, or is it a genetic thing? Must stop thinking about him.

“I’m here for Rashelle. You’re here for Fareed. Let’s leave it at that,” I say as I take out my phone to get some work done. Unfortunately, there is no cell service, exactly as Fareed warned me. I drop my phone back in my purse and look out the window at the scenery instead.

***

As we pull into town, I note that the little village is quaint and beautiful. This must be the place Rashelle told me about. I would love a chance to explore the cute little shops.

“I can park here if you want to do some shopping first,” Harry offers.

I consider it a moment, but it’s directly opposed to my plan of escaping his presence ASAP.

“No, let’s just pick up the order and get back.”

“How about a coffee or something to eat?” he suggests hopefully.

“How about no?”

Sighing, he drives past the cute historic downtown and turns onto a less busy side street. Then he parks in front of an old-fashioned mercantile. This is definitely not a chain store. We both get out. He puts his hand on my shoulder as if I’m incapable of walking unguided. I duck away from him and give him the look I’ve mastered to scare guys off. He ignores my icy stare and smiles at me.

“What is it with you?” I ask before darting inside the store. Fortunately, there is no line at the front counter, so I am able to find a quick distraction from Harry. 

“Hello, we’re here to pick up an order of seafood for Fareed MacBain,” I inform the shop owner, who appears to be a hundred years old.

“Oh, aye,” he says, motioning toward the back. We follow him to a walk-in refrigerator, and he points to two large boxes.

“Do you have a packing list I can double-check?” I ask, taking out the paper that Fareed gave me.

He pulls a printout off each box, and I verify everything is in order.

“Looks good. I brought him for his muscles,” I say, pointing at Harry, who picks up a bulky box that does look quite heavy.

“Ach, aye,” the old guy agrees as we watch Harry easily carry the heavy load. I run ahead to open the shop door and the trunk. Harry slides the first box in and then goes back for the other.

“Did Fareed already pay you?” I ask the shopkeeper.

“Paid in full,” he confirms. 

“Well, thank you,” I say as Harry carries out the second box. 

“I guess you were useful after all,” I tell him begrudgingly.

“You’d be surprised how useful I can be.”

He’s coming to open my door, so I try to beat him to it, but I only manage to get my hand on the knob at the same instant as him. We awkwardly open it together. I climb in. My fingers are burning from his touch. He slides into the driver's seat, looking totally unaffected.

“Teamwork makes the dream work,” he says with a wink. 

“Mmph.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to do anything while we’re here in town?” 

“No, I need to get back and help Rashelle,” I answer vaguely.

He reaches over and lays his hand on my leg to get my attention. “I bet you’d love touring the whiskey distillery,” he offers hopefully.

I push his hand away. “Drive,” I hiss, totally losing my patience with him.

He looks a bit deflated as he starts the car and heads out of town. I have to admit, the scenery is phenomenal here in the mountains. The road twists and turns back on itself, which is a bit unnerving because there don’t seem to be any guardrails.  

“You won’t want to miss the view from this lookout point.” He slows down and points at a place where he can safely pull the car off the road.

“Fine,” I acquiesce. I am on vacation, after all.

He pulls over and walks around to my side. I open my door before he can. My traitorous heart starts to beat faster. Why does he have this effect on me? He makes me feel out of control, and it’s not a feeling I like.

 “I’m perfectly capable of opening my own door,” I say icily in an attempt to put some much-needed distance between us.

“Of course. I never meant—”

“You can drop the act, okay? I’m not buying whatever it is you’re selling.”

I head over to the thin strip of stone on the side of the road, and it gives me a bit of vertigo when I see the steep drop-off. I shudder. One wrong step and a person could plunge to their death. It is beautiful, though. The crisp air blows through my long, dark hair, and I breathe in the fresh air. No smog here.

“Worth the stop?” he asks.

“Yes. Es hermoso . . . beautiful . . . but we’d better get going,” I say before hurrying back to the car.

He seems agitated when he joins me. He buckles his seatbelt. And then he presses the start button, but nothing happens. 

“It’s not starting,” he says, stating the obvious.

“Did you drop the fob out there?”

“No, it’s right here,” he says, picking it up to show me.

I'm suspicious that he’s playing some kind of game.

“Put your foot on the brake,” I order. When I see that he has, I press the start button myself, and it does nothing. 

“Well, do something,” I say, panicking a little bit.

He pulls the hood release, gets out, and walks to the front of the car. Once he has the hood propped up, I can’t see what’s happening, so I talk to him through his open door. 

“Can you tell what’s wrong?”

“No.”

I don’t know anything about cars, but I get out of the car anyway. I’m staring down helplessly at a jumble of wires and tubes when something pink and fluffy floats by. How bizarre. 

“That looks like cotton candy,” I say as another puffball floats by.

“There’s probably a pink cottonwood tree nearby.”

His answer makes sense, so why does he look guilty?

“You need to call roadside assistance,” I inform him.

“There’s no cell service here.”

I grab my phone from the car and grimace when I see that he’s right. 

“Let’s just sit in the car, and maybe it will start in a bit.”

I start to panic. I am not about to go parking by a scenic view with this irresistible man. He’s too charming, and I’m more attracted to him than I should be, more attracted than I’ve ever been to a man . . . and at my age, that’s saying a lot. I can’t explain it, but he does something to me.

I don’t feel in control when I’m around him. And given the way he’s always flirting with me, I certainly don’t trust him to stick to his side of the car. Worst of all, I don’t trust myself to keep rebuffing his advances.

“Fine, I’ll walk back.”

“Lily, don’t be ridiculous.”

My eyes shoot laser beams at him. That’s the last straw! With those words, he’s proven to me that he’s no better than the guys at the office. No one gets away with calling me ridiculous. I don’t give him the courtesy of a response. Instead, I start walking. I can hear him following me, so I go faster. When he goes faster in an attempt to catch up, I start running.

But the jerk starts running too. Can I outrun him? Probably not, but I’m going to try. And now I really am being ridiculous, and I know it, but it’s all his fault. I’m full-out panicking by this point. Is there something in the water here that messes with women’s minds?

I’ve witnessed firsthand how Rashelle went all goo-goo ga-ga in love shortly after arriving in Scotland. My power-driven lawyer best friend has turned into a domesticated soon-to-be wife and mommy. I never would have believed it was possible. There is something strange going on here with all the smoking-hot single guys. I feel something otherworldly pulling at me, like I’m in the Bermuda Triangle of love, but I refuse to be caught.

Because Harry . . . he’s more appealing than all of those other men combined, and he’s made no secret of the fact that he wants me. I don’t know why he wants me . . .  just that he does. I’ve worked hard to make my life exactly what I want it to be, and I’m not giving that up for diapers and a minivan. I sprint full-out, sparing a quick glance back to gauge how close he is. He’s definitely gaining on me. 

I give it one last burst of speed as I run on the rocky cliff that forms the side of the road, and that’s when it happens—I slip on a patch of ice on the stone surface and slide out of control. I scream as I windmill my arms, trying desperately but failing to stop my forward momentum. My feet slide out from under me as I topple over the edge.

My scream echoes through the canyon below, but somehow, miraculously, Harry catches my hand. I’m dangling by his ironclad grip on my arm, with both of my feet kicking frantically. There’s nothing but air and a thousand-foot drop below me.

“Harry!” I scream as he grabs my other arm and pulls me up onto the edge of the boulder. I sob as I turn into his arms, and he holds me tight. He cups my head to his chest and places his face against my head, deeply breathing in and out.

I look up, and his eyes are boring into mine. And then I’m lost. It’s like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the air. His head dips toward mine, and as I stare at his perfect mouth, I can’t remember why I need to resist him. I part my lips in anticipation of his kiss . . . and then a car horn cuts through the silence.

Just like that, whatever magical spell I was under is broken. I gasp, and my lips slam shut as I turn to see who honked. The near brush with death has made me even more skittish. I turn and see that it’s the old Scottish guy I met at dinner last night, Gavin MacKenzie. He’s Rashelle and Fareed's driver or something because, apparently, rich people are incapable of driving their own cars.

He pulls the Rover in behind our car. He must be on his way back from the airport. I do my best to ignore the fact that he must have seen me almost making out with Harry on the side of the road. 

“Hey, Mr. MacKenzie. The Porsche broke down. Can I catch a ride?” I ask.

“Och aye,” he says as I open the passenger door and climb in. 

He gets out to help Harry with the Porsche, but this time it starts right up. That’s odd. 

“Lily, I got it started,” Harry says, motioning hopefully to the passenger seat.

“I think I’ll ride with them,” I say, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Mr. MacKenzie climbs inside and starts the Rover. I initiate a conversation with the backseat passengers, who tell me they’re here to help with alterations for the wedding. I risk one last glance at Harry as we drive by. He looks like he doesn’t know what hit him. Do not even feel guilty, I silently scold myself.