From the author of Jilted comes a funny and romantic Christmas novella set in rural Australia

Every family has a black sheep...and Hannah Elliot is it

It’s no surprise to anyone when Hannah Elliot makes the spontaneous decision to marry a stranger in Las Vegas. But when she finds herself pregnant and her new husband files for an annulment, she dreads having to tell her family.

Returning to her hometown of Wildwood Point, Hannah is determined to put her baby’s needs ahead of her own and become a devoted mom. She also wants to prove to her family she can actually be responsible, which will mean putting her wild past behind her and accepting a job in the family business...all while keeping her pregnancy under wraps.

But when gorgeous Italian Matteo Della Bosca walks through the shop door, Hannah finds her resolve slipping fast....

“Rachael Johns writes a beautiful romance, full of charm and emotion.” — USA TODAY bestselling author Maisey Yates

The Kissing Season

Rachael Johns

Refreshed version of The Kissing Season, revised by Mills & Boon HQN

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Dedication

To Helen Breitwieser (my fabulous agent)—thanks for believing in me and my writing.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

Acknowledgments

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

TWO SECONDS AFTER Hannah Elliot’s boss—who just happened to be her older brother—left Elliot’s Emporium to meet his fiancée, Nikki, for Christmas shopping, she let out a “whoop” of joy. Nikki had a reputation of being unable to make a decision quickly, which meant Luke would be away for ages. Hannah relished the thought of a few hours’ reprieve from people breathing down her neck about responsibility and family duty. Having returned to Western Australia from Vegas only two weeks ago, she hadn’t even told them the worst of her situation yet, and still, every member of her immediate family thought her flighty and irresponsible. Always had, and now, no doubt always would. The idea of being free to phone a friend, peruse the latest gossip on Facebook or simply sit back with her feet up while she enjoyed the gingerbread man under her desk was more than a wee bit appealing.

And in her condition she had to keep her strength up.

Four seconds after Luke left, the silly chimes at the entrance, which alerted Elliot staff to potential customers, clanged. She eyed the brown paper bag under the desk and groaned. She could practically hear the crumbly gingerbread man she’d bought early that morning at the Wildwood Point Bakery crying out to be devoured. What kind of person bought a bed the week before Christmas anyway?

Six seconds later she had her answer.

The male type of person. But not any old male. No way. Even sworn off men and on a necessary, self-enforced dating drought, she could look at this man with a critical female eye and admit there was absolutely nothing to be critical about.

“Good morning.” His cheery voice held the attractive hint of a foreign accent and also a question. She realized she’d been gawking quite freely at this impressive specimen of man—at his tall, well-built but not too muscular torso that wasn’t at all hidden beneath a decidedly designer shirt and smart black pants. His jet-black hair had a touch of unruliness that perhaps on another man would look scruffy and unkempt, but on him looked sexy as hell. And that was even before she started on his chocolate-brown eyes that sparkled in a way she didn’t think possible. “I heard this was the place to buy a bed.”

“Yes. That’s right.” She jumped to her feet, inwardly berating herself for getting distracted by this...this...man. What was wrong with her? Barely five minutes onto the straight and narrow path that was to be her life from now on and she was ogling the customers. “Elliot’s has been crafting top-of-the-range furniture for almost a hundred years. Family owned and...and...”

Dammit, she’d forgotten the spiel.

He peered at her, his dark brows slightly raised in anticipation, his smile still wide, now almost bemused. “Yes?”

If it wasn’t bad enough she was the laughingstock of her family, now total strangers found her antics amusing. She racked her brain for the sales pitch but all she could think about was how perfect this guy would be as a model for a pinup calendar. A calendar she’d happily give pride of place on her bedroom wall. Which was ridiculous. For a start, men in suits were definitely not her type. If they had been, she’d more than likely not be in her current predicament.

It had to be the insurgence of hormones wreaking havoc. Forgoing the traditional Elliot’s sales pitch, she forced her rebellious hormones back into their box and summoned her most professional smile. “You’ve definitely come to the right place. Would you like to look around or do you have an idea of the type of bed you’re after?”

“I’ve got an idea all right.” Although his words were benign, the tone of his voice—smooth, sultry, sinful, suggestive—sent her hormones off on another wild spin. She leaned forward slightly, gripping the desk for support. He continued, summing up his requirements in one very distracting sentence. “Not too hard, a little bit bouncy, four solid bedposts, luxurious enough to be able to laze in on long Sunday afternoons, and, of course, big enough for two.”

“Of course.” She swallowed as heat flushed her cheeks. Of course someone like him would have a bed buddy. Of course. She glanced at his left hand, at his ring finger, and found it to be decidedly lacking in marriage bling. A silly spark of hope lit up her heart.

It was quickly extinguished by the one cell of common sense in her body. He might not have a wife but that didn’t mean he was “available.”

And she certainly was not.

Her hand fell to her still-flat belly, to the tiny life she would already do everything to protect. She straightened and walked around the desk. “Well, I think most of our beds fit that description, so perhaps we should take a stroll around the showroom and see if any appeal to you?”

“Sounds like a plan.” That grin again. Argh.

Hannah stepped in front of him so she couldn’t be bamboozled anymore by his killer smile and led the way to the front of the showroom. “This here is our local range. All these beds—” she swept her arm through the air like a model on some corny television quiz show “—are crafted with timber from Western Australian jarrah, karri or tuart trees. Many of our local clients like that aspect and prefer them to imported woods.”

“I can see why. They are very beautiful.” He ran his hand along the foot of one of the beds and Hannah actually shivered as if he’d run his hand up her spine instead.

Ridiculous.

“Of course, you don’t sound very local so you may be more interested in some of our international woods,” she said, trying to divert her mind from all things physical. From his hands and lips and the way they’d feel traversing the planes of her body.

He chuckled. “I’m Aussie born and bred, but my father is as Italian as they come and I’ve spent a lot of time working overseas the last few years.”

Italian. Her knees went weak. The French were known to be the most romantic nationality in the world, but she preferred Italians. She’d had an Italian boyfriend while she was traveling in Europe, and he’d always have a special place in her heart. They had that bad-boy element combined with irresistible charm that she’d always been such a sucker for. Had always been, as in the past tense.

Although his gray shirt, a slightly loosened tie with ships, of all things, scattered over it and his sweet, boyish smile didn’t scream bad boy to her. She frowned, perplexed, as she tried to work him out.

“Is it okay to test it?” His dreamy voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“Sure, sure.” She cleared her throat, hoping she’d cough out some of this craziness. There was absolutely no need to try to get inside his head. “How about I let you have a look around without breathing down your neck?”

He stepped a little closer, so he was just outside the boundaries of personal space. “Sweetheart, you can breathe down my neck any time.”

Good God. She swallowed, grappling with the thought that she should reprimand him for being so presumptuous as to call her sweetheart while at the same time positively sweltering at the thought of her breath on his neck. Or vice versa. She wasn’t fussy.

Somehow she managed to say, “I’ll be at the desk if you need any further assistance,” before she turned—and fled.

It wasn’t Elliot’s policy to leave potential customers on their own in the showroom, but neither was drooling or freaking them out by staring in a stalker-ish manner. And unfortunately she seemed quite capable of doing both. She needed a few seconds to pull herself together, to perhaps eat her gingerbread man and get some much-needed sugar into her bones. She felt light-headed and suddenly realized this dizziness wasn’t a result of her customer’s sparkling presence, or even her pregnancy. She probably just needed something to eat.

Shoving the cookie in the drawer of the desk between stealing tiny mouthfuls, she watched as the tall, tanned customer prowled about the showroom. He stopped at almost every bed, rubbing his chin as he gave it careful consideration. So far he hadn’t sat on any to test them and she wondered if perhaps they didn’t have anything he liked. Swallowing the last morsel of sweetness, she was about to get up and ask if he’d be interested in ordering an individually designed bed when he kicked off his black shoes, no doubt Italian, and flopped back onto a bed in the very middle of the showroom.

She stared, warmth filling her and her lips curling into a helpless grin as he rolled back and forth across the bed. He wiggled about, mucking up the crimson quilt set that adorned the bed. He left no corner of the bed untested. He stretched out, puffed up the pillows and then clasped his hands behind his neck. She’d never witnessed anyone testing a bed in such a thorough manner. She was mesmerized, bewitched. Her hormones were banding together to form a positively hot pool of desire right where it mattered.

Until he stood right up in the middle of the bed and began to jump up and down.

On no! Her hand flew to her mouth in shock and she knocked her bottle of water over in the process. She let the water trickle out onto the desk, her mind focused on another problem entirely. Such as what would Luke say if he returned this minute? Trust her customer to choose to manhandle the most expensive bed in the store.

“No! Stop!” The words tumbled out of her mouth as she leaped out of her seat and made a mad dash to the bed. Elliot’s beds were renowned for being solidly crafted but they weren’t designed for two-hundred-pound men to treat as nothing more than a child’s trampoline.

She reached the edge of the bed. “That’s not how you test beds.” Even as she spoke, the hilarity of the situation sparked a bubble of laughter deep within. She struggled, failing dismally, to keep her amusement a secret.

“You’re absolutely right,” he said, staring right into her eyes and catching her laughter like a disease. “Testing a bed definitely requires two people.”

Before she could guess his mischievous intentions, he’d flopped down into a seated position, leaned forward to grab her hands and hauled her onto the bed beside him—on top of him, in fact. Hannah’s insides twisted, rocked and praised the Lord as if she’d just indulged in a whole block of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk chocolate. She didn’t have time to wrap her mind around the idea that what he was doing to her wasn’t appropriate in the slightest; all she could think about was the tenderness of her breasts pressed into his chest, the feel of his long muscular thighs against hers, his deliciously male scent and the infectious grin on his face.

He rolled over, taking her with him until she was underneath and he was on top, gazing down at her eyes and lips as he held her head between his hands as if she were the most precious thing on earth. She licked her lips, all the while moving her eyes over his face, taking in every single detail and cursing the heavens above for not having met this face three months earlier. Time seemed to stand still; her heart stopped working as he took forever to drop his lips to hers.

But when he did...oh when he did...Hannah forgot everything she’d promised herself on the long flight back from Vegas. His hand swept down the side of her head, her body, and cupped her buttocks toward him as his tongue slipped between her lips and explored. She kissed him back, sucking, nibbling, delighting in him for as long as her conscience allowed.

Then, after about five minutes in this stranger’s passionate embrace, something hard pressed against her belly. Oh Lord, was that an erection she felt? His erection? Alarm bells sounded loud and clear in her head. What the hell was she doing kissing a potential client in Elliot’s showroom? Or a rapist? Not that she knew much about rapists, but she watched the news, they were out there. As if sensing her sudden retreat, he did something illegal with his tongue, making her bones melt, leaving her wanting a lot more than one kiss.

Hell, Hannah!

Never mind the rapist, what the heck was she doing kissing anyone? Horrified and shamed by her wanton actions, she gave him a hard shove. He barely moved with her effort but his eyes blinked open and his lips leaped back from hers as he scanned her face.

“Get off me,” she panted, thinking that she should feel violated when all she felt was hot, turned-on and flustered. Not good.

“Sorry.” The guy obeyed her immediately, rolling over to free her from his clutches. He wiped her pink strawberry-flavored lip gloss from his mouth and stood up.

She remained prostrate on the mattress, too shell-shocked by what had just occurred to make a move.

“I’ll take the bed,” he said, digging in his pocket, presumably for his wallet.

“I should think so.” Her heart finally made an effort to return to normal speed but she feared it’d be a while before her temperature did the same. Somehow she managed to pull herself together enough for her brain to give the instructions for her legs to stand.

“And those.” He pointed to a nightstand and dressing table that matched the bed, before taking a quick stroll around the rest of the showroom and picking out a number of pieces. She had to jog to keep up as she pressed little yellow sold stickers onto everything he pointed at.

“Did your house burn down or something?” She could think of no other reason why someone would go out and buy so much furniture with so little thought. “Or did you win the lottery?”

He chuckled and she prayed he’d hurry up and finish this crazy shopping spree so she could begin to forget him and the feel of his big beautiful body mashed against hers. “None of the above. I’ve just bought a house in the area and I need to furnish it. I’m also the type of man who doesn’t like to waste time, and I know what I want when I see it.”

Why did she get the feeling he wasn’t talking about the furniture?

“Fair enough.” She shrugged as if she really didn’t care either way and placed a sticker on the coffee table he’d just earmarked. She guessed he was one of the many rich business people choosing southwest Australia—amid the forests and wineries, seconds from the coast—as their place of residence.

“I think that’ll be it for now. Do you do home delivery?”

“Of course.” Shaun, her youngest brother, would have to do at least two trips in their truck with this load. She smiled at the thought, suddenly realizing how good this sale was going to make her look when Luke returned. “Let’s take a seat so I can finalize your order.”

Not waiting for another word from the Italian, Hannah headed straight for the sales counter, determined not to look him in the eyes for fear she’d forget all her resolutions yet again.

His long legs had him just behind her. As she sat in the swivel chair, he slapped his platinum AmEx card down in front of her and smiled. She glanced up and even though she recognized that smile as one perfected for a hundred ladies before her, it had the power to unravel need deep within. Ignoring that need—or at least trying to—she found his name on the credit card and almost swooned. Matteo Della Bosca. It was the perfect name for all the tall, dark gorgeousness in front of her.

He didn’t ask for the price and she forgot to give it to him, but as she slipped his card into the machine, he spoke. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me?”

She almost fell off her chair in shock. “I’m sorry, what did you say?” She looked up and met his gaze for the first time since their kiss. She had no idea why his request surprised her. He’d been making sweet eyes at her the moment he walked through the door. But her world had shifted recently and she kept forgetting no one else knew her secret.

“I said—” he cleared his throat and smiled “—would you like to come out to dinner with me?”

Yes please was on the tip of her tongue. But ignoring the raging disappointment of her libido, she swallowed her instinctive reply. “No, thank you,” she said instead. Her time for men—especially men as dangerous as this one—was finished.

* * *

MATTEO DELLA BOSCA, known mostly as Matt, knew if he intended to settle down and find Miss Right, he’d have to stop indulging in spur-of-the-moment activities such as this one. Unfortunately that was his mother’s wish for him; he was quite happy with the status quo. He hadn’t yet met a woman who made him want to change his carefree ways. His mum believed he couldn’t just kiss every girl he felt like kissing, and frequently begged him to stop what she called his Casanova ways and get serious, but he hadn’t been able to help himself with this one. In fact, he’d been more impulsive than usual, not even pausing to question if she was available.

The smile as she returned his card didn’t meet her eyes and he couldn’t believe his ears when she rejected him. That kiss had been smoldering, and he knew he wasn’t the only one to think so.

“Are you married?” he asked. “Engaged? In love with the boy next door?”

He swore he saw the corner of her lips crinkle with amusement and although he felt the pull of victory, she didn’t let such feelings go any further.

“Nope, none of the above.” Then added, “I’m simply not interested.” Holding her pretty chin high, she pushed a piece of paper in front of him. “Sign here.”

He didn’t believe she wasn’t interested and had a good mind to kiss her again just to prove it. Instead, he slipped his card back inside his wallet and leaned forward to sign the paperwork.

As he scrawled his signature, she turned back to the computer. “Your address, please?”

Without glancing up, he said, “Why do you want to know? Planning to stalk me?”

“Uhh, no. I need it to give to the delivery driver.”

Damn. He closed his eyes as he cursed silently and wondered where the hell he’d misplaced his cool. He didn’t usually use such shocking lines. “Wishful thinking, I guess.” And it was best to move on quickly from such a low point. “I’ve just bought a place on the beach.” He rattled off the address of an old shack that had been renovated to look like something out of movie set. His mum had always dreamed of living somewhere that overlooked the Indian Ocean, but her deadbeat husband would never have managed to scrape together the dough. He’d barely left her enough to cover the costs of his funeral.

“Ahh, I think I know it. Pretty place.”

Something the house and you have in common. Luckily he managed to bite his tongue before he looked the fool. Who said things like that? Certainly not him. Was it because this cute girl had turned him down so flatly, without any hesitation? He tried to recall a time where any woman had been so hasty to reject him but came up blank. “Yes, it is. Have you lived here long?”

Although he’d grown up in small town Wildwood Point, he’d lived with his father in Melbourne as a teenager and hadn’t been back much in the last decade. His job kept him busy and on the move; at least that was the excuse he’d always given his family. Now that his wicked stepfather was gone, he might manage to make it home a lot more often.

“All my life.” Her tone suggested this was some kind of punishment. “Although I’ve been traveling the past few years and have only come back home recently.”

“Ah...a kindred spirit.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively at her. “You see, we already have something in common and if you promise to come out to dinner with me tonight, we’ll never run out of conversation.”

“I’m busy tonight.” She took his receipt off the printer, folded it and slipped it inside an Elliot’s envelope.

“Tomorrow night then?” This was the closest he’d ever come to begging for a date.

She looked at him as if he’d grown another head and she didn’t want to kiss that one either. “This is the week before Christmas. Sorry. I’m all booked up.”

“You really don’t want to go out with me, do you?” he asked, unable to keep the skepticism out of his voice.

“Nope, I really don’t.”

The blink of her eyes told him otherwise and Matteo decided then and there, if he did nothing else while home for Christmas, he’d succeed in getting this particular girl into bed.

CHAPTER TWO

HAVING SPENT A month’s wages on furniture for his mother’s Christmas present and unable to get that cute saleslady out of his head, Matt headed back to his mother’s to see if he could take her mind off her recently departed husband. He stepped into the near-derelict house and immediately wiped his hand across his sweating brow—it was hot outside, but practically a sauna in here.

“Mum,” he called, traipsing through the house. He found her in the kitchen pulling a tray of biscuits out of the oven. “Haven’t you heard of air-conditioning?”

She smiled up at him, but it was only a fraction of the smile she once wore. “AC costs money, my darling. And it’s not that hot. Now that I’ve turned the oven off, it’ll cool right down.”

He raised an eyebrow, thinking it’d be a good few hours before the ocean breeze started cooling anything, but she spoke before he could voice this concern.

“Any sign of the Two Cs yet?”

“No.” Cate and Claire, his younger half sisters, were supposed to be coming home from Perth for Christmas to help him cheer Mum up after losing their father midway through the year, but they’d been unclear as to when they were actually going to show. This was her first Christmas without her husband since she’d married him when Matt was a kid, and his first Christmas in the beautiful Margaret River wine region in about a decade. This was not a coincidence. Usually he spent Christmas in some hotel room, nothing but the television for company or, if he was lucky, an eager female tourist. This year was gonna be a whole other story.

“What have you been up to this morning?” his mum asked.

“Just took a stroll down the main street. Checking out all the new shops and stuff.” In the time he’d been away, Wildwood Point had gone from being the town everyone rushed through on their way to the more popular spots of Busselton, Dunsborough and Yallingup to a place celebrated in its own right. It had to have doubled in population and there were all these cutesy shops and cafés there now.

“See anything you like?”

Oh yeah, something I like very much indeed. He shrugged. “A couple of things.”

“Run into anyone you know?” she asked as she started placing her Christmas cookies on a cooling rack. There was a hopeful tone in her voice—he knew she’d love him to settle back in Wildwood Point. Unfortunately that wish was never going to come true.

“Not this time.” Truth was he’d lost contact with all the boys he’d gone to school with long ago and he doubted many of them were still in town. He didn’t want to tell her why he’d gone into Elliot’s Emporium, but he wanted to quiz her about the saleswoman. “Although I looked in the window at Elliot’s Emporium. There looked to be some great stuff in there.” Stuff, woman...

“Oh, there is.” She wiped her hands on her apron and plonked down on a kitchen chair. “I’ve been cleaning for the Elliots a couple of years now and their house is gorgeous. It’s a historic homestead and Emily Elliot has decorated it accordingly. The decor is amazing and their furniture so beautifully handcrafted. I’m always saying they should open a tearoom there but they have their hands full with the emporium.”

“You clean for the Elliots?” He hated the thought of her having to clean for anyone and he wished like hell she’d accept some of his money. On the other hand, at least he knew she’d love the items he’d chosen.

“Yes.” Her smile glowed. “Lovely family.”

“Don’t suppose you know any of their salesgirls?”

“You wouldn’t be talking about Hannah, would you?”

“Maybe? This girl was pint-sized, had masses of brown, curly hair and a dimple in one cheek.”

“Yes, that’s Hannah Elliot. Emily and Ron’s only daughter.” A frown erased her smile. “Put her out of your mind, Matteo. She’s just returned home after a terrible ordeal and she doesn’t need the likes of you breaking her heart.”

“Mum! I’m insulted.” He didn’t break women’s hearts. He made sure that whoever he seduced knew the score, that he was with them for a wild time, not a long one. And he made sure he gave them a wild time, so he never had any complaints.

“Oh, sweet cakes, you know I love you, but you have your father’s Casanova ways and that girl needs someone stable in her life. The Elliots are very worried about her.”

“What kind of ordeal?” he found himself asking.

She sighed. “Now don’t you go spreading this around. You know how things are in small towns so I want—”

Holding his hands up, he interrupted. “Who am I going to tell?”

This seemed to be enough assurance for her, or perhaps she just wanted to tell him so he’d stay clear. Either way, he leaned back in his chair and settled back to listen to Hannah’s story.

“I thought people marrying strangers in Vegas was the thing of bad telemovies.” His mum finished her story after about half an hour. “But apparently it actually happens in real life too.”

“Wow.” Matt had met a lot of people on his travels but he couldn’t recall anyone who’d actually been married by an Elvis impersonator on a whim in Vegas. The Elliots and his mum believed it proved Hannah flighty and irresponsible. He thought she sounded adventurous—a girl who wanted to escape the constrictions of small-town life and just happened to get unlucky. “That accounts for her demeanor then.”

“Was she glum, poor girl?” His mum shook her head sadly. “When Cate and Claire arrive I’ll be sure to take them down to the shop and introduce them. Did I mention that the Elliots invited us over for Christmas lunch as well?”

“No, you didn’t.” Normally the idea of spending Christmas with someone else’s family wouldn’t have garnered any enthusiasm on his part, but this particular family had something more to offer than corny Christmas cheer. They had Hannah. Imagining her face when she found out he’d be spending Christmas day at her place, he chuckled.

“So you can see why I want you to stay away from her,” his mum warned.

“Yes. Sure.” But Matt was very careful not to make any promises. There were two ways to look at Hannah’s situation. Either she was the marrying kind and would be looking to hook another husband in the not too distant future, or the jerk in Vegas had turned her completely off men. Judging by the way she’d put him in his place, he figured the latter, and that meant seducing her would be all the more fun.

He had no qualms about being the rebound guy who helped sexy Hannah mend her broken and bitter heart.

“I was thinking we could go see the Christmas movie at the Memorial Hall tonight. There’s a different one on every night this week,” his mum announced, an obvious attempt at changing the subject. “Tourists from Yallingup and Dunsborough have been venturing in and I’ve heard it’s a fun night.”

He couldn’t hide his grimace. “What’s showing?”

“How the Grinch Stole Christmas.” She beamed and he thought maybe her grief had gone to her head. He could think of a zillion things he’d rather do than sit in the stifling hot town hall on plastic chairs, surrounded by overexcited kids watching a Dr. Seuss film—that date with Hannah topping the list. But he loved his Mum, and Hannah hadn’t agreed to her part of the bargain, so he didn’t have a better offer.

“Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Terrific.” She actually clapped her hands and her tone was happier than it had been in a long while. “I hope the Two Cs are home by then. The Grinch used to be their favorite book.”

“Used to” being the operative phrase, but Matt refrained from mentioning that. If he had to sit through Christmas kid-movie hell, his little sisters could suck it up too.

* * *

IF HANNAH HAD to return to Wildwood Point with her tail between her legs, she couldn’t have picked a better time than Christmas to do it. Despite a brief lecture from her parents and another from Troy, her oldest brother, she’d gotten off relatively unscathed. Everyone in town (including her nearest and dearest) was too busy with Christmas and the influx of summer tourists to spend too much time harassing and lecturing her. With the hectic schedule of events leading up to the big day, it meant she could spend her days in the Elliot’s showroom and her nights out of the house, giving no one the chance to corner her for a “chat.”

Tonight Hannah and her two best friends from high school were taking her godchildren, James and Sari, to the hall to watch How the Grinch Stole Christmas. It happened to be one of her favorite holiday movies and she couldn’t wait to snuggle up with James or Sari on her lap.

In the early evening breeze, Hannah waited on the front steps of the hall for Laura and Jayne to arrive with their children. Not sharing her dream of traveling, both Laura and Jayne had married their high school sweethearts and popped out two adorable babies within months of each other. At four years of age, James and Sari were already the best of friends and although her friends’ kids adored her, Hannah couldn’t help feeling the odd one out. But not for long—soon she’d have a little baby too. She rested her hand on her stomach and smiled. Motherhood hadn’t been on her immediate agenda, definitely not single motherhood, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t thrilled.

Laura and Jayne didn’t know about the baby yet, and it was awful keeping the secret from them, but she couldn’t risk her parents’ finding out from someone else. The plan was to go to her thirteen-week scan in Busselton on December 31, and once she knew everything was okay with the baby, then she’d spill the beans.

“Annah, Annah.” She turned, hearing Sari’s sweet voice, to see her friends holding the hands of their children as they approached the building.

Hannah waved and went to greet them. She hugged Laura and Jayne and then stole away James’s and Sari’s hands. “Who’s up for popcorn and candy?”

“Me! Me! Me!” the kids shouted in unison.

The five of them climbed the steps and went inside to the nearly full foyer. Laura and Jayne took the kids to find seats and Hannah, knowing how fidgety James and Sari could get waiting for anything, volunteered to fetch the snacks. She smiled and waved and made small talk with a few people as they waited it out in the queue. Just as she was almost at the counter, something made her glance sideways, back toward the entrance, and her heart stopped dead in her chest.

Never in her wildest imagination had she visualized seeing Matteo Della Bosca here tonight. He stood tall above the crowds and she couldn’t make out with whom he’d come, but there was the top of a blond head bobbing on either side of him. Something inside her twisted at the thought that he’d so easily found another date for the night, two if the plural blond heads were evidence. And brought them to the showing of a kids’ movie? Yeah, that surprised her.

“Evening, Hannah. What can I get for you?”

She tore her gaze away from the entrance and smiled at the guy who’d run the Christmas movies for as long as she could remember. “Oh, hi Jimbo.” She couldn’t for the life of her remember what she needed to order, so she went for variety. “Can I have one large box of popcorn, one bag of candy floss and five chocolate bars? Yes, that should cover it.”

When Jimbo handed her a box to carry her purchases, she turned away from the queue and found herself scanning the crowd, but the Italian was no longer in her sight. Ignoring the disappointment that churned through her stomach, she ventured into the hall and found her way to her friends, seated right in front. She tried to focus on the cherubs chatting in excitement as they waited for the movie to start, but it took all of her willpower to stop from craning her head around and looking for him.

No wonder she infuriated her family. This kind of behavior infuriated her. But the truth was, it was against Hannah’s nature to turn down the offer of a good time from a hot man. And Matteo Della Bosca wasn’t simply hot; he was on fire. Despite knowing it had been the right thing to do, she couldn’t stop remembering the feel of his lips on hers or fantasizing about what kind of night she’d be having right now if she’d said yes instead of no.

Thankfully, she’d seen the movie more times than she could count on her hands, because if this were her first viewing, she wouldn’t have been able to tell anyone if she liked it or not. The minute the lights came on again, the urge to turn around became almost unbearable. The mass exodus from the hall gave her no chance to locate anyone, and when they finally emerged, Sari needed to go to the bathroom and Jayne decided to take James as well. Hannah told them she’d wait in the foyer. Not because she might see the Italian and definitely not because she might catch a glimpse of which local women had been suckered into a date with him.

No longer in the mood for small talk with anyone, she leaned against the wall near the bathrooms, which happened to give her a good vantage point of the crowds spilling out into the warm night air. She must have spotted half the town and a number of people she didn’t recognize, and was beginning to think she’d imagined seeing Matteo earlier, when someone sidled up beside her.

Even before she turned her head, she recognized his presence. Her belly did an undeniable flip of joy. He’d swapped the suit for khaki shorts and a plain black T-shirt that highlighted the perfection of his upper body.

“You turned me down for a Christmas movie?” He leaned against the wall, too, so his shoulder almost touched hers, and she wondered what he’d done with his dates.

Yeah, stupid, huh? She forced herself to take a step sideways and hoped he got the message. “Everyone loves a Christmas movie.”

“Sure.” His voice was low as he leaned toward her, so only she could hear him, and held a hint of amusement. “But I could offer you so much more fun than a Christmas movie.”

That joy in her belly fled south, igniting a warmth and need right between her legs. She pressed them together, fighting the desire as she forced nonchalance into her voice. “What are you doing here, then?”

“Mum wanted to come.”

Confused, Hannah furrowed her brow as she followed the direction his finger was pointing. Her gaze came to rest on Sarah Brown, her parents’ house cleaner. She would never have guessed this Italian stallion belonged to Sarah. Standing next to his mother were her daughters, who, with perfect blond bobs, didn’t look a thing like their brother. But that was likely due to the different father thing. Hannah couldn’t recall their names—although only a few years younger than her, they’d gone to school locally whereas she’d boarded in Perth and their mother only ever referred to them as the Two Cs.

“Sarah is your mum? I thought Matt stood for Matthew?” Sarah often talked about her son Matt but Hannah had never seen him, until now.

“Logical conclusion. But no.” He held out a hand. “Matteo Della Bosca, but most people call me Matt. You can too. Pleased to meet you.”

She couldn’t resist the opportunity to touch him although every sensible cell in her body told her to resist. “We’ve already met.”

“And don’t think I don’t remember—” he grinned, which only worked to amplify the heat within her “—but I didn’t get your name.”

“Hannah. Hannah Elliot.” It wasn’t a sin to give the man her name now, was it?

“Matteo.” Sarah, blonde like her daughters but not at all as svelte, landed beside them and glowered at her son. “It’s time to go home.”

Hannah didn’t know what that was all about but she smiled at Sarah anyway. “Hi Sarah. I met your son earlier when—”

Matt’s voice was loud, overriding her sentence. “In the bakery. Hannah was buying a gingerbread man.”

She looked at him, confused at his lie but kinda stoked he’d paid enough attention to notice what she’d been eating. “Yes, I must admit a weakness for them at this time of year.”

“Oh, if you like gingerbread, I’ll drop you round some of my Christmas cookies.” Sarah beamed. “I made a big batch this morning.”

“That would be lovely,” Hannah replied honestly. After all, she was eating for two, didn’t she deserve a bit of extra sugar?

“Anyway, we must be going now, come on, Matteo.” Sarah had a viselike grip on Matt’s arm and tried to pull him away. The use of his full name made Hannah wonder what he’d done to displease her.

“Nice seeing you again, Hannah.” Matt nodded and ran his gaze down her body, making her feel as if he had X-ray vision and could see right through the summer maxi dress she wore. Her knees swayed again. “Maybe I’ll see you soon.”

It was a statement, not a question, and Sarah didn’t appear to like the idea. “I doubt that, Matt. Hannah will be far too busy with the emporium this week.”

As Sarah practically dragged her son away, Hannah wondered if she should feel insulted. She got the impression Matt’s mum didn’t think Hannah was good enough for her boy, but instead of being offended, she thought it sweet. It probably wasn’t her—Matt was a good-looking man and she guessed he was quite successful in business as well. Like most mothers, Sarah probably didn’t think any woman would make the cut.

“Who was that?”

“Is that Sarah Brown’s prodigal son?”

Laura and Jayne, each carrying a sleepy child in her arms, spoke at the same time.

Hannah blinked a few times, her gaze still glued to Matt’s retreating behind. His butt looked tight and incredible in those shorts. Man, she was hopeless. Lost cause material. You’d think she’d learn from past mistakes.

“Earth to Hannah? Did that guy hit on you?”

“Yes, twice.” Hannah could never lie to her best friends.

“Then what the hell are you still doing here? Go after him,” Laura commanded.

“And be sure to take notes so you can tell us all about it in the morning,” Jayne added with a suggestive smile.

“You two, stop it.” Hannah tried to look stern. Fact was, Laura and Jayne—although totally happy in their marriages—had been living vicariously through her shenanigans for quite some time. She used to send them daily emails when she was circumnavigating the globe. “I told you, I’m sworn off men after Larry.”

Jayne’s eyes narrowed and she hissed like a wildcat. “I have conflicting feelings about that ex of yours. Half of me doesn’t want to meet him, but the other half of me would love to get him alone, naked, in the salon with a big pot of wax.”

Hannah sniggered. Jayne owned the beauty salon in town and reckoned the best way to get revenge on a man would be to tie him up and then wax his nether regions.

Recovering from her own giggles, Laura said, “Jayne’s right. You can’t let Larry the Loser ruin your life. You deserve good sex as much as the rest of us.”

Why was Matt synonymous with good sex all of a sudden?

“Hey, the blame can’t lie solely on Larry’s shoulders,” Hannah said defensively. Although if they knew the truth, they’d likely take a shotgun to her ex-husband’s head. “He was just the final nail in the coffin, but I think it’s high time I got the message. I’m not talented when it comes to picking men. I think the longest relationship I’ve ever managed besides Larry lasted a week.”

“No, it was ten days,” Jayne said matter-of-factly. “With Tim just before the end of high school.”

“Semantics.” Hannah shook her head. “Bottom line is the same.”

Laura sighed. “Fair enough. I see where you’re coming from, but the way Sarah says it, her son won’t be around for long. Why not indulge in one last summer fling before you join the convent?”

Because I’m pregnant. Hannah couldn’t bring herself to admit this just yet and she knew Laura and Jayne wouldn’t let the matter rest, so... “Look, I promise to give it some serious thought. Happy?”

Her two friends nodded, big grins on their faces.

CHAPTER THREE

LAURA AND JAYNE would be pleased, because Hannah couldn’t stop thinking about Matt. Every time the door of Elliot’s Emporium opened the next day, she looked up, her heart skipping a beat at the thought that it might be Matt coming back for something he’d forgotten, and then sinking when she realized it wasn’t. Putting a smile on her face for the customers who weren’t him took serious effort. Luckily most of them were only after small things—a wooden ornament, a rocking horse or a coffee table for a Christmas present—and were on their way again pretty fast. That left Hannah with plenty of time to sit back in her chair, nibble more gingerbread and play the “What If?” game.

What if she’d never gone to Vegas?

What if she’d never come home?

What if Larry hadn’t hated the idea of having a baby?

Stuff Larry...she didn’t want to think along those lines. Granted, their conversation prior to marriage hadn’t been huge, but not wanting to have kids was one of those things most people let potential spouses know. Argh...she felt her blood rising to boiling point and resolved to put Larry the Loser (she liked the nickname Laura had coined) out of her mind and go back to fantasizing about Matt and what she’d do to him if things were different.

She was a little disappointed he hadn’t found an excuse to pop in and see her, but then again she had pretty much turned him down twice. Most guys gave up after such brutal rejection.

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