A Very Menage Christmas by Jennifer Kacey Page A

suggestions
revolved around your junk.”
    He looked down his nose at me, grinding his teeth. “And
bringing someone else into bed with us. What were you thinking?”
    “Ah. There it is. Your ego got bruised so you decided to hop
in a different bed. To prove what? We’re not married. We’ve only been exclusive
for a few months. Well, minus the exclusive part obviously. Oh, and don’t for a
minute believe I buy your charade about being disgusted at the idea of a
ménage. Love how you’re grossed out by another guy in the picture but if I
suggested Jenna join us? You would have tripped all over your schedule to make
time.”
    His nose went in the air but the flare of lust gleamed in
his eye at the mere idea of my best friend in bed with us.
    Hypocrite!
    “I’m not into kinky stuff. We aren’t in college anymore.
We’re grown-ups and you need to start acting like one. Like getting a real job
instead of painting all day.”
    Lying hypocrite!
    I barked out a brittle laugh. What a crock of bull. His
lecture grated on my last damn nerve. Reprimand me? I don’t think so.
    “I’ll pass on your version of ‘grown-up’. I never said we
had to do any of the stuff I suggested but at least I tried. Sex is important
and hopefully it still is until the day I die.”
    “Payton, are you coming to bed?” The softly spoken question
from inside the apartment ground our conversation to a resounding halt.
    He glared at me warily.
    I rolled my eyes. “She can have you.”
    The urge to knee him in the balls twitched up my leg but I
used the impulse to leave. My heels clicked against the floor on every angry
step, making my ass swish from side to side.
    “You should have told me you wanted these things from the
beginning. Considering who you are…it’s disappointing.”
    He had to get in one more dig. Had to be the one to have the
last word. I hated that it hit its mark. It dug its way under my shield of
indifference and struck close to home.
    Instead of being a girl about it, getting all weepy and
throwing a tantrum, I did what any self-respecting ex-girlfriend would do. I straightened
my spine, stalked down the hall like I owned it and flipped him the bird over
my shoulder.
    Trying to find someone my parents approved of, and I could
tolerate for more than a blind date, sucked. Their constant reminders, their
apologies for my behavior, ate into my hide like poison ivy.
    Anxiety clawed at my insides. Not for ditching Payton, he
was just one more in a long line of trust-fund pricks my parents thought I
should commit to. What made me want to dig into a pint of Häagen-Dazs was the impending
international phone call to Mother. Her sigh of disappointment could traverse
an ocean. Maybe my cell phone would forget her phone number…for a month.
    I didn’t want to be the black sheep of the family anymore.
Single, unmarried, childless at the ripe old age of twenty-seven. Oh, the
horror.
    My parents and grandparents acted as if the end of the world
loomed above us since I still had to tick the single box on my income taxes.
    Taking my time to find a husband to love, honor and cherish
surely wasn’t that bad.
    I couldn’t help whom I was attracted to. But my chemistry
with a potential mate wasn’t nearly as important as their last name or the size
of their portfolio, at least according to my family.
    Rounding the corner, I stumbled over my own feet, catching
myself on the wall.
    Less than ten feet away, the blond god—Jackson—filled the
doorway of 2D. I almost purred as he gave me a panty-dampening once-over. Maybe
I should have worn panties.
    “Trouble, sweetheart?” The rough cadence of his voice kicked
off a round of thump, thump, thump between my thighs.
    His tone, his inflection, even the hint of concern licked me
straight up the middle.
    Bet he tasted better than my pint of Rocky Road.
    I moved closer.

Chapter Two
     
    “Gorgeous” was a despicable understatement when it came to
the star of my wet dreams. His golden hair