Unwrapped

UNWRAPPED

Chantilly White

A SnapDragon Press Book

Published at Smashwords

UNWRAPPED

Chantilly White

SnapDragon Press Smashword Edition

Copyright © 2012 Chantilly White

Cover Design Copyright © 2012 Chantilly White

Cover Image Copyright © LanaK, via fotolia. Used with licensed permission.

Digital Edition 1.0

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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be re-sold or re-licensed, nor reproduced, distributed or transmitted, in any form now known or hereafter invented, nor stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author. Please don't pirate. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

To obtain permission to excerpt portions of the text, other than for review purposes,

please contact the author at Chantilly@ChantillyWhite.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is purely coincidental.

UNWRAPPED

Chantilly White

His to unwrap. His to keep.

Derrick Fox only wants one gift beneath his Christmas tree--his best friend, Mia. When her latest moron walks out on her, Derrick finally sees his chance to break through the wall of friendship and claim Mia for his own. Forever. But when she propositions him instead, it leaves him reeling.

Insecure, image challenged and dumped--again--twenty-five-year-old Mia Patterson is sick to death of being a virgin. With her knight in shining armor nowhere to be found, naturally she turns to her BFF, the insanely sexy Derrick Fox, to help her out. The problem? Derrick wants far more than the body she's ready to give. He wants her heart.

As the most magical time of year approaches, Derrick and Mia struggle to create some Christmas magic of their own--the sort that happens once in a lifetime, when two hearts finally come together in trust. And love. Unwrapped.

DEDICATION

To all the friends out there who took a chance on love and won

The pearly treasures of the sea,

The lights that spatter heaven above,

More precious than these wonders are

My heart of hearts filled with your love.

~Heinrich Heine

TABLE of CONTENTS

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Other Works

Excerpt ~ Pearls of Pleasure

Acknowledgements

About the Author

UNWRAPPED

Chantilly White

CHAPTER ONE

Sunday, September 24th

The echo of angry words and slammed doors still vibrated through the sunny, beach-front condo on invisible waves of sound. Hurt drifted like a haze on the air. Derrick Fox could almost see the slide of it thickening Mia's voice, coating her tongue and aching in her throat with every chocolate-covered cherry she swallowed.

And then he said, Mia continued, breath hitching, 'You're not the woman I thought you were.' And he walked out.

Sniffling, she licked melted chocolate off her delicate fingers one by one. She pulled another cherry out of the half-empty box and stared at it, twirling it by the stem before popping it in her mouth.

Despite the occasion, the sight of Mia's full, soft lips wrapping around the cherry stem shot a sensual laser beam straight to Derrick's groin, surprising him with its intensity and tightening everything in a painful vise. From the back of his neck, zinging down his spine to the tips of his curling toes, the sexual tremors had him twitching in his seat.

Throttle it back, man. Now's not the time.

With his best friend, Mia Patterson, it never was the time.

Damn it.

Flicking his gaze between Mia and Allison Kelly—the third in their best-friends-since-college band of misfits—Derrick shifted, trying to get comfortable. The three of them scrunched together on Mia's plush lipstick-red couch in the front room of her tiny condo in Newport Beach. California sunshine poured through the picture windows and highlighted a spectacular vista of burnt-sugar sand and blue-green ocean, exactly the same shimmery shade as Mia's eyes. The water stretched away from the crowded beach outside her front door, but none of them paid any attention to the breathtaking view.

Allison sat on Mia's other side, rubbing Mia's knee in comforting circles and making Derrick crave the feel of Mia's skin just there. He wanted his fingers gliding along her smooth, sleek legs. With time to explore. Time to savor.

Clearing his throat, Derrick hoped neither woman noticed his tension. His body hummed like a teenager's, all out-of-control hormones and zero finesse. The knowledge that Mia was finally free again had flipped a switch in his head, but he was a grown man. He needed to reassert some mastery over himself. He needed to focus. And plan.

What would they do if he leaped to his feet and announced he was in love with Mia right there in the middle of her family room, just hours after she got dumped by her last boyfriend?

Yeah, it probably wouldn't go over too well.

But after eight years of friendship, this was it—the last time some other guy was going to get in his way, the last time a suave, posturing jackass was going to hurt Mia. She'd been hurt enough, and whether she realized it or not, he loved her. He was ready to prove it.

Everyone said I'd feel better when I lost the weight. Mia swiped at the mascara running down her face, smearing it into mini-Rorschach-style blotches, before selecting another cherry. But I don't. Everything hurts. I was happier when I was fat.

You were never fat, Mia. Derrick controlled the surge of fury with effort, a muscle going in his jaw. If he could get his hands on Barry-fucking-Anderson right now. . . Goddamned metro-sexual sleazebag.

Never. Allison pulled Mia's head to her shoulder, stroking Mia's long brown hair. It shone in a waving mass down her back, the same glossy shade as the candy Mia stuffed defiantly in her mouth.

Allison, a true redhead with pale skin lightly freckled from the sun, exchanged a glance with Derrick. The look in her big blue eyes mirrored his urge to commit acts of violence against the creep who'd done this to their best friend.

Newly svelte and newly single—again—Mia leaned against Allison wearing an ancient peach-colored t-shirt three sizes too large and enormous ratty grey sweatpants, her bare feet tucked beneath her legs. The sweats cinched at the waist by an unraveling drawstring, cut off at the knees and used to belong to Derrick.

Damned if he'd ever looked as good in them as Mia did, though.

He pretended exasperation every time she snagged another piece of his clothing—an activity she'd made a regular habit of since their freshman year at UC Irvine—but secretly he liked seeing her in his castoffs. There was something unspeakably intimate about her wrapping herself up in a shirt he'd worn.

Now, four years out of college, she'd managed to sneak at least half his wardrobe into her own closet.

Derrick kept his attention on the conversation, but his fingers itched to run through Mia's silky hair. Her dark strands tangled with Allison's rioting bronze curls, a chocolate and caramel river glinting in the sunlight beaming through the windows. Mia's lightly tanned skin sported bright red splotches brought on by the crying jag.

Beautiful as Mia was, she'd never been a pretty-princess kind of crier. If he got the chance, he'd make Barry pay for every splotch.

You're beautiful and funny and sexy, Allison was saying, her tone firm. Any guy would be lucky to have you.

Then why didn't he want me? Mia's whimper effectively killed the sensual vibes running beneath Derrick's skin and resurrected the anger.

Because Barry's a dick. Derrick snapped the words like bones breaking under a heavy fist. And he wanted to hit something. Or someone. Barry.

He'd kill Barry.

He's an idiot, said Allison.

Mia buried her face in her hands. I practically threw myself at him.

He's an idiot and a dick, and he doesn't deserve you. Derrick made his voice particularly harsh to emphasize his point, while Mia's tears scored trails of acid across his heart. He cracked his knuckles.

He'd enjoy killing Barry.

Exactly, Allison agreed. Any guy who'd break up with a woman because her bra and panties didn't match is a total waste of oxygen.

Derrick snorted with disgust. No, Barry hadn't deserved Mia, and she'd never been fat. She'd been soft and sweet and rounded in all the right places. But once Barry entered her life, she'd stopped seeing her lushly gorgeous curves for the scorching-hot handfuls they were, only that she hadn't fit into the size-four jeans Barry convinced her she was supposed to wear.

It wasn't only that, Mia said, still somehow defending the bastard. He just wanted me to look a certain way when we—

He's a prick, Allison interrupted. A horse's ass in Armani suits and Italian shoes is still a horse's ass.

I disappointed him, Mia said, and Derrick's fists clenched.

Bullshit, he said sharply.

Barry had led her on, made her all kinds of promises, only to dump her when she failed to live up to the man's impossible ideal.

I thought, when he made it past the three months. . . Mia broke off with a hiccup.

Mia and her Three Month Rule.

Christ.

Twelve guys in eight years—not that he was counting—plus innumerable losers who hadn't even made it past a second date. None of them had stuck it out, except Barry. So what happened when she finally found a man who'd go the distance? He told her 'no thanks' at the finish line. What an imbecile.

Thank God.

Did you love him? Allison asked, and Derrick's entire body went still. Mia didn't believe in that kind of love. She claimed.

I— Mia paused, her brow crinkled like the tissue in her hand. He held his breath. No, of course not, but—

He breathed again, a small sigh of relief. He didn't want her believing in 'Big L' love. Not until he convinced her otherwise, and then only with him. Not a cretin like Barry.

How a woman as smart as Mia had failed to recognize Barry's superiority complex was a mystery to Derrick. She wasn't one to be star-struck over a guy's credentials, even if said cretin was one of the leading plastic surgeons in Orange County. She wasn't swayed by money, status symbols or a top-tier social life.

But Mia had a heart the size of Jupiter, easily influenced by good deeds. She'd met Barry while chairing a benefit for victims of violent crimes, one of her many projects. The man's activism drew her to him like a kitten to a bowl of spiked cream. She'd lapped up his spiel and fallen for his shtick, milk-drunk on his image as the generous do-gooder.

Barry performed pro-bono reconstructive surgery for people scarred by violence, a fact he played up big time in his marketing efforts. He reveled in the attention it garnered him in the press and in the dramatic increase in his profits from his paying clientele—all those rich, desperate women, eager to fix their every perceived imperfection and convinced such an altruistic surgeon was the answer to their prayers. Supporting his pity-patients, as he called them, had turned his practice into a goldmine and had given him entrée into the upper echelons of society, a feat he hadn't been able to achieve on his own.

Not to mention the write-offs at tax time, a detail he'd gleefully shared with Derrick in an unguarded moment. Mia had believed Barry cared for the victims out of the goodness of his heart.

You should have called it off after a month, the way he treated you, Derrick said.

He'd tried to keep the I-told-you-sos to a minimum, but it amazed him that Mia—formerly so confident—had been deliberately blind for so long with this one. Barry had constantly condescended to her in public, something she never would have stood for in the past. He'd remarked loudly on the calorie counts of her meal selections at restaurants and embarrassed her over her wardrobe choices. He'd brushed off any attempts at affection as juvenile clinginess.

That one, particularly, had hurt her. Mia was a major hugger. It was one of her chief forms of expression. A friend? Hug. New acquaintance? Hug. Happy? Sad? Unsure? Hug, hug, hug.

She was the best hugger he knew. A Mia hug could brighten the day of even the saddest sack around. Except Barry, evidently.

Barry's list of crimes went on. One by one, he'd somehow taken all the things that made Mia. . . Mia, and unmade her. But Mia had set her mind on him, and she was nothing if not stubborn.

Hell, Barry had even sneered at Derrick's career as a computer game developer, wanting to compare perks and salaries as though breaking out the ruler to compare the lengths of their cocks.

Allison, an event coordinator running her own business, had also gotten a dismissive look down the nose, though Jeff Denton, their fourth Musketeer and Derrick's college roommate, had somehow escaped the surgeon's derogatory comments. Derrick suspected Barry hadn't quite known what to say to a man like Jeff, a brilliant businessman building an entertainment empire on the one hand, and a flaming drag queen on the other.

I just thought he'd finally be the one, to, you know. . . Mia said, tears running faster.

Ah. The prize for The Rule's winning contestant.

After years of dating disasters, she'd been getting desperate. Desperation could do crazy things to people. Like make a woman put up with all sorts of crap. Or make a guy like him think about declaring his love at a very inappropriate moment.

And the love thing doesn't matter, Mia continued, tossing another cherry in her mouth. There's commitment and loyalty and common interests. Those are good, solid reasons to get married, build a life. I thought—but I let him down, and. . .

She dissolved against Allison, and Derrick worked to get himself under control. He hadn't realized she'd been thinking along those lines, not that seriously. Barry had shown his true colors in the nick of time, in blazing neon Mia could no longer ignore.

I repeat, he said. Bullshit.

Shaking his head, Derrick considered the two women. Tough-as-nails Allison, with her penchant for lots of men and lots of sex, and sweet-as-cotton-candy Mia, who claimed not to believe in love but had the softest center of anyone he knew. She loved so hard it broke her heart. The only place she protected herself was romantically, and even that, he suspected—hoped—was a sham.

Was there a cause she hadn't championed? She worked her ass off through her magazine—print and electronic—to bring attention to the most vulnerable people, the forgotten issues, all through the guise of profiling the rich and powerful. She was a fundraising demon. The social elite ate out of her hand and begged for more, throwing money wherever she pointed them, bringing plenty of prestige to themselves, but doing a lot of good in the process. She'd started small after college, focusing on Orange County and gradually expanding to include the entire state. Now she had staff and volunteers all over the country and was working on expanding into foreign fields.

Mia, Allison cut into his thoughts, her tone as razor-edged as Derrick's had been, "the only person you let down was yourself for getting taken in by that worthless, hyper-critical,