The parking garage was all but deserted — a byproduct of the last day of work. The higher-ups had all taken off early in the week, driving or flying out to their houses in the Hamptons or upstate New York to have beautiful holidays with big, happy families. That left the rest of us — the ones still doing the bulk of the work — to tie up loose ends.

  I was walking down the elevator hallway when I heard it: a noise, somewhere behind me. It was a distinct shuffling. The rhythmic scuff of heels on cement.

  The sound disappeared the second I stopped walking.

  Was it an echo?

  That made sense, although the hallway had never echoed before. Then again, I’d never seen the garage this empty.

  Slowly I started again, listening intently. The noise still reached my ears. It was softer this time… but still there.

  Don’t turn around… don’t turn around… don’t turn—

  I picked up the pace, until I was practically jogging rather than walking. And sure enough, the noise did too. Whoever was following me wasn’t being careful, which meant either they weren’t all that good at being quiet… or they just didn’t care.

  Both possibilities terrified me.

  Holly, go!

  I kept going, too scared to look back. Too frightened of what I might see, of losing even a few precious seconds of distance between us in the time it took to turn around. The mouth of the building yawned before me, and through it, filtered grey daylight. I focused on the doorway, until finally I was running…

  I broke out into the street, looking like a madwoman as I sprinted across the sidewalk. With throngs of people milling around in every direction, I felt safe enough to whip my head around and risk a glance…

  The shadows of the parking garage remained absolute. I could sense movement in them, though. A vague stirring.

  I walked backwards for a good half block, making sure I wasn’t being followed. Eventually I picked out a small cafe, ducked inside, and slipped into the first empty chair so I could watch the window. I sat there for a good five minutes, heart racing, just watching as dozens upon dozens of people walked by.

  “Miss?”

  When I glanced up, a shaggy-haired waiter was staring down at me pleasantly. His smile put me somewhat at ease.

  “Did you need anything to drink?”

  “N—No,” I said, starting to get up. “I was just…”

  A man walked by the window, tall and gruff and determined. His eyes were scanning in every direction, as if he were on a mission.

  Was that him?

  Then again, the next man looked pretty much the same. So did some of the women. Half of all these people, I knew, were tourists. Walking with that swiveled-headed gait, that skyscraper-gazing awe, you only saw in New York City.

  Shit, I’d done the same thing for weeks after I first got here.

  “On second thought, you know what?” I told the waiter, “I will have a drink.”

  The man’s smile returned. He pulled out his little pad as I plopped back into my seat.

  “Make it a double, actually.”

  Forty-One

  HOLLY

  It was already dark by the time Ulrich arrived to pick me up, which was unbelievable considering it was only four O’clock. That was the worst part about Christmas here for me. This time of year the sun in New York City went down a full hour before it did in San Antonio. The short days and scant sunlight seemed to cast everything in a premature gloom.

  But I tried to look on the bright side. At least it meant longer nights.

  As I packed, I forced myself to forget about the incident in the parking garage. I chalked it up to my imagination, or maybe just another employee getting off the same time I did. There was no reason to think otherwise, and I didn’t want to ruin the weekend with needless worry. Besides, it was New York City! There were people literally everywhere.

  But not in Maine…

  As the shiny black Lexus turned onto my street, I was already in a much better mood. The excitement at going away with Lincoln drove away everything else, even my anger at Malcolm. I stood on my tiptoes so I could plant a Christmas kiss on Ulrich’s cheek, then jumped into the front seat instead of the back to make chit-chat with him all the way to John F. Kennedy Airport.

  In truth, I needed the company. I wanted to work out every last bit of anxiety before getting on the plane. When the car finally stopped at the private aviation center, Lincoln was there to open the door for me. He took my hand, pulled me to him, and greeted me with a smile and a kiss.

  “You ready?”

  It was absolutely freezing cold! Windy too. My lover’s body was warm though, especially as I slid my hands around his waist to kiss him back.

  “Let’s go then,” said Lincoln. “Pilot says we gotta beat the storm.”

  Ulrich handed my bag to someone else, and I saw the aircraft that would take us into the sky. It was a small but beautiful jet, the interior lights looking warm and inviting through its rounded windows.

  We boarded, and the first thing I noticed were the plush leather seats on either side of the fuselage. There were tables to sit at. Places to kick back and actually stretch out.

  “I’ve never been on a private plane before,” I admitted.

  “You’re gonna like it,” Lincoln chuckled. “But only for about two hours. In this thing, Maine isn’t all that far.”

  I sat down, marveling at how comfortable and spacious everything was. The cabin was warm, and well-lit, with a fully-stocked bar off to one side. When Lincoln picked up an already-open champagne bottle and some glasses, I nodded happily.

  Glancing up toward the nose, I could see into the cockpit. Lights and avionics blinked from every surface of the control console. One of the pilots saw me looking, smiled back at me, and tipped his hat.

  “He’s here,” I heard him say, his eyes shifting to Lincoln.

  “Good. Get him up here already, he’s late. And feel free to call for clearance whenever you’re ready.”

  I looked back at Lincoln a little confused. “Who’s he talking abou—”

  Halfway through my sentence, someone else came up the ramp. He literally jumped on board, wearing an oversized backpack and a big, shit-eating grin.

  “Brody!”

  Brody smiled back at me with a wink as he began looking upward, presumably for the overhead compartments.

  “Drop it anywhere young gun,” Lincoln instructed him, “and take a seat. We’re gonna be taxiing in a moment.”

  “Roger that,” said Brody.

  Lincoln leaned into me and nuzzled my neck, sweeping my hair back to get at my bare skin. His lips brushed my ear and a whole flock of butterflies took off in my stomach.

  “You don’t mind that I invited him, do you?”

  My mouth was dry. Almost too dry to speak.

  “No,” I practically choked. “Not at all.”

  “Good,” Lincoln murmured. “He had no plans for the weekend, really. And after the other night the three of us had together… well…”

  His tongue dragged its way along my the rim of my ear. His breath was hot. Steamy. Driving me absolutely wild.

  “I invited Donovan too… but he couldn’t make it. Too many clients, too many sessions. He just couldn’t get out of work.”

  I was relieved by that and yet disappointed, all at the same time. Handling Lincoln and Brody for the weekend would be challenge enough! I didn’t even know the logistics of how it would work, being away for a few days with the both of them…

  But I was more than ready to try.

  Brody sank into the couch on the other side of me, with a champagne flute of his own. I felt a flood of wetness between my legs. My body was exploding with heat.

  “We’re going to do all kinds of things to you, Holly,” Lincoln breathed.

  He had one hand on my thigh already. Brody dropped a hand on the other. They both squeezed.

  “All kinds of things.”

  Forty-Two

  HOLLY

  The climb was quick and choppy, but the rest of the flight remained smooth and beautiful. I spent our two hours in the air basically unwinding. Lounging out across the laps of my two attentive boyfriends, letting go of Malcolm’s bullshit, of the New York crowds, and whoever might’ve been following me in the parking garage.

  Lincoln stared at his laptop, playing absently with my hair. He claimed he’d ditch it once we landed, but needed to get a few last minute things done first.

  Brody on the other hand, was giving me what amounted to a professional foot massage. I wasn’t sure where he learned his technique, but he soon had me moaning and groaning with delight. I was still twisting happily beneath his firm, experienced grip as the pilot announced we were already descending, ending my far-flung dreams of joining the mile-high club… at least for now.

  Once down, the weather was even more brutally cold. The storm about to sweep New England would be something else; the pilots were talking about it on the radio and to each other, all the way to the hangar.

  A car had been prepared for us, or rather, an old Ford Bronco. Someone flipped Lincoln the keys, and ten minutes later we were piling into the front bench seat, all loaded and ready to go.

  “This was my first vehicle,” Lincoln explained, starting the engine up. “Not sure why I keep her, but she’s well maintained. Nostalgia, probably.”

  It took several minutes for the heat to kick on, but when it did things got cozy. I was nestled happily between my two men, staring through the windshield and into the darkness. Already it had begun to snow.

  “Is your place far?” Brody asked.

  “Not too bad. An hour maybe.”

  The heat from the vents washed over us as Lincoln navigated the pitch black highways. Personally I couldn’t see anything. There weren’t even any streetlights.

  “This reminds me of Texas,” I sighed contentedly. “But without the snow.”

  “Yeah, but you have cow-tipping,” Brody offered.

  I rolled my eyes theatrically. “Oh yeah. There’s always that.”

  What started out as small ice crystals turned into heavy white flakes as the drive went on. Snow began accumulating on the roads. The wind was whipping it across our field of vision, creating almost whiteout conditions that forced Lincoln to slow down.

  “I didn’t realize the storm would be this bad,” he said. “I haven’t had much time to look at the weather.”

  “Got firewood at this cabin?” asked Brody.

  “No, but I have an axe,” Lincoln answered. When Brody looked at me and mouthed the words ‘what the fuck’ Lincoln let out a hearty laugh. “Yes there’s firewood,” he finally admitted. “But the place has heat too.”

  I snuggled into him on the driver’s side. His arm felt firm and wonderful beneath my cheek. “I want a fire anyway,” I said.

  “Then you’ll have one. And soon too, because we’re here.”

  The Bronco swung right, and a long driveway spilled out before us. Lincoln drove on for what seemed like several hundred more feet before a large but cozy-looking cabin came into view.

  “Welcome to Chalet Wallace,” he announced, as we rolled to a stop. He yanked up on the parking brake.

  Lights were on throughout the house. High above, I could see smoke rising from the chimney as well.

  “Is there someone else here?”

  “No,” said Lincoln. “But I had the place prepped for us ahead of time. Lights… heat… the wood-burning stove…”

  Brody shook his head in awe. “Man, you’ve got a lot of people doing a lot of things for you,” he whistled low.

  “I do,” Lincoln admitted. “I’ve been very lucky.”

  “You’ve also worked very hard,” I pointed out. “You took risks. Sacrificed long hours. You built something for yourself, Lincoln. That’s why you have this. Not luck.”

  He slung my bag over one shoulder, and his bag over the other. The look he gave me though, was one of admiration.

  “Door should be open,” he said, jerking his head at Brody. “Go on in.”

  Brody sprinted happily up the walkway and pushed his way inside. As he did, Lincoln made his way over to me.

  “I need to thank you again,” he said, “for all the help you’ve given me.” He looked down at the ground for a second. “You know, with the books. And with Kathy. And…”

  “It’s okay,” I smiled, grasping his one free hand. “Anytime.”

  “No, I mean it Holly,” he said. “You’re really… well…”

  I laughed into the wind. “I’m what?”

  “You’re special to me.”

  We stared at each other, and suddenly I couldn’t feel the cold anymore. There was just the two of us — his eyes, finding mine. Locking onto them. Drawing me in.

  Lincoln dropped both bags, and sifted his hands through my hair. He pulled me nose to nose with him.

  “I love you, Holly.”

  I couldn’t breathe — somehow my breath was lost on the wind. Rather than try to catch it I just stood there, absorbing the gravity of the moment.

  “I love you too,” I whispered finally. It was so cold, my words came out as little puffs of white smoke. “You’re amazing, Lincoln. You’re everything I’ve ever—”

  Anything else I might’ve said was lost there in the gravel driveway, as he pulled my face to his and kissed me.

  Forty-Three

  BRODY

  I’d been skiing with friends once or twice, and I’d even rented a cabin. But it was never anything this remote. And never anything nearly this beautiful, as Lincoln’s chateau or chalet or whatever the fuck he was calling it.

  Out here on the ass-end of Maine, everything was breathtakingly beautiful. From the towering pines to the snow-covered lakes, everything we passed looked like something out of a postcard or a Christmas painting.

  We were back on the road again, after a short stint in the cabin. Apparently whoever stocked the place had neglected a few things, and Lincoln claimed there was a shopping center ‘just up the road’.

  Just up the road turned out to be ten miles away. And shopping center… well, that was even more laughable. It looked more like a convenience store with a liquor store patched onto the end of it. And not one of those good liquor stores either. The ones that only sold wine and beer.

  We’d made the most of it, laughing together as we shopped for snacks and drinks and whatever else we’d need to get through the weekend. Holly and I dipped next door to pick up some wine. Lincoln bought chips and pretzels and about five pounds of ‘premium’ beef jerky in all different flavors. I never could understand why people ate such a thing in the first place, but I figured to each his own.

  In the end we finished quickly, as the store was already shutting down for the storm. The roads were filling up with snow fast, and the plows could barely keep up with it. We huddled back into the front of Lincoln’s bronco, feeling warmer and cozier than ever before.

  Holly sat between us, wearing tight jeans and an even tighter sweater. I caught Lincoln looking at her more than once, and each time he only shrugged and smiled that knowing smile.

  It was crazy, how much we both wanted and desired her. Even crazier, how much she flirted back with us. The entire evening had been filled with non-stop sexual innuendo; with groping and kissing and touching between us and Holly that seemingly had no actual limits.

  On the way back it got even crazier, as Holly grew a bit more daring during the ride home. She had one hand in each of our laps. Her fingers worked deftly at our buttons and zippers, working hard between our legs to massage our growing erections.

  There was a certain camaraderie that came with sharing a woman that I never knew I’d enjoy. And yet here I was, making out with this wonderful woman. Feeling her body writhe beneath my fingers as she turned her head to make out with Lincoln… and not even feeling the slightest bit of jealousy.

  We stayed in the truck for another fifteen minutes after arriving back at the house, just kissing and touching and licking her. Somehow we’d gotten her shirt off, and we’d been taking turns making out with her hotly. Alternating between Holly’s soft, moaning kisses and drowning within the supple flesh of her warm, beautiful breasts.

  Chasing her back inside, we locked the door behind us. The chalet was warm, the fire still cozy. And though the wind howled like crazy outside, inside we’d created a nice little nest of pillows and blankets right before the roaring fireplace.

  So you finally found the girl of your dreams…

  I really had. Holly was perfect, inside and out. And most of all I knew it too, unlike all those movies where the guys never really knew what they had until the end.

  But does she want you too?

  I sure thought so. Or rather, it certainly seemed that way. When we’d decided to all date her at once we’d made a pact not to pressure her, or push her, or be jealous of one another. And so far I’d kept up my end of the bargain. Every minute of every day.

  And what if she doesn’t? The voice of doubt crept unbidden, into my head. What if she picks one of the other two?

  I couldn’t imagine it — not the way things were going so far. And yet, it was still a distinct possibility. The idea that Holly would grow tired of all the attention and drama of having three boyfriends, and somehow decide upon the one she loved most.

  That couldn’t happen… could it? I tried not to think about it. Especially not as we were having so much fun, deciding on a whim to play a little strip poker… right there in front of the fireplace.

  “I’ll get the cards,” said Lincoln, bolting for the staircase. “Be right back.”

  I sat staring at the fire, enjoying the hypnotic dance of the flames. Letting its warmth seep into my body, until last of the outside chill was driven from my bones.

 

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