Catrina watched as, one by one periodically through the evening, the guests who had been invited to come dressed as the sexy days of Christmas, removed their coats and took their peppermint cream. She watched them open it and stand there, looking surprised at the number and the instructions stamped on it: Find your bauble on the big tree. Number —.

She leant provocatively against the wall in her sleigh and snowball bikini as her friend, Sally, took her correctly numbered bauble. Catrina smiled as Sally squealed when she realised that she had a screw bauble (what else?!) and twisted it, unfastening the two halves to find her instructions. As Sally scooted past her, Catrina whispered, ‘Sal, I hope you have a lovely evening.’

She watched the muscles stretch in his forearms as he carried the tray. Instinct told her to reach out and run her fingertips along them, getting him to look at her with those incredible brown eyes, and make him hurry up and put the tray down so that she could pull him on top of her. Instead, she bit her lip at the focus in his downturned gaze as he carefully manoeuvred himself to place the mince pies and hot chocolate by the bed. Watching his intense concentration on anything at all, however small, was her favourite pastime: the darkness of his eyes, the temporary sternness in his face – they unfurled a desire that spread its way from her core until it filled every part of her, right down into her fingertips.