Beckett climbed into the sleigh and reached down to take my hand. I placed my gloved hand in his and stepped up beside him.
“I would have settled for a plate of barbecue and a beer,” I said.
Beckett tugged my hand and pulled me close. “That’s not very romantic.”
I pressed against him, sliding my arms around his neck. “You’re determined to prove me wrong, aren’t you?”
His hands shifted to my lower back. “Are you impressed?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
Beckett bent his head and touched his mouth to mine. He wrapped his arms around my waist. His hands spread over the back of my winter coat as the hard steel of his thigh nudged my legs apart. He pulled me closer, and I felt every inch of his hard body pressing into mine.
Okay, I was impressed.
The man had a body sculpted by the gods, and a mouth made for sinning.
He slanted his head to dip his tongue into my mouth, and my pulse soared. I tasted the sweetness of the champagne and the dark hints of spice that were pure Beckett. I arched closer, sliding my fingers through the crisp hair above his collar. My breasts flattened against the iron wall of his chest, and I wished there weren’t so many layers of clothes between us.
Beckett broke the kiss and trailed his lips over my jaw. “I’ll keep trying,” he whispered against my ear. “We better sit down though, before the driver gets tired of waiting and pulls off.”
When Beckett kissed me, I forgot the world. I glanced at the driver, who sat looking at his horse, waiting patiently for us to sit down, and felt a flicker of embarrassment. My cheeks flamed pink, and I took a seat on the bench. Beckett joined me and tucked a blanket around our legs.
“You’re sexy when you blush.” Beckett placed a kiss behind my ear where my knit hat held back my hair.
The driver turned around to greet us. “Welcome to Azalea Falls Farm. Would you like some hot cider?” He offered us a thermos and two cups, and Beckett leaned forward to take them. “I should warn you—this cider is known for its magical properties. Those who drink it are more likely to fall in love.”
Beckett poured two cups of cider as the horse trotted through the rows of trees. He handed a cup to me and put the thermos on the bench beside us.
“Are you going to try it?” he asked, his voice teasing.
My heart lurched, and my pulse went haywire. I didn’t believe in enchanted cider any more than I believed in real-life happily ever afters, but suddenly I wanted to.
“Sure.” I lifted the cup to my mouth. “Why not?”
Beckett raised his cup and joined me.
The taste of tart apples, spicy cinnamon, and sweet honey flooded my mouth. It was delicious. Just what I’d expected from a recipe for love.
“I can feel it working already.” Beckett smiled and put his arm around my shoulder.
Warmed by the cider, the fur blanket, and Beckett’s heat, I felt pleasantly drunk on life. “It’s probably the champagne,” I said.
Beckett cupped his hand around my shoulder and tucked me against his side. “It was a good vintage, but not that good.”
We sipped the cider as the carriage cut a path through the Christmas trees. Snow sparkled in Beckett’s hair and dusted his coat. I studied Beckett’s profile as he gazed out at the scenery. The blade of his nose was straight and proud, but his mouth was soft and sensual. When he smiled, his face transformed from a brooding hero into a charming playboy. When his dimples popped, my blood heated. Snug under the blanket with Beckett’s arm around me and his hard thigh pressed against mine, I felt like a princess in a fairy tale.
I leaned closer to him, taking in the scent of his spicy aftershave. “Tell me something about you that I don’t know,” I said.
His eyes found mine. “You already know something about me that only a handful of people know.”
I couldn’t contain my curiosity. I wanted to know everything about Beckett the author. “Who else knows?”
Beckett took our empty cups and set them aside. “My editor. My agent. My PA. You. And Summer.”
“Summer knows?”
Beckett nodded. “It was an accident. She found out last year.”
