The first time she’d seen him, on Blooming Pails’s opening day, she’d nearly swallowed her tongue. Standing in a shaft of dazzling sunlight, biting into one of the homemade cannoli she’d put out to tempt customers, was the personification of her every sexual fantasy. Yowza. Big, strong and utterly gorgeous, he looked like a cross between a sun god and one of those beautifully rugged guys who populated men’s cologne ads. Everything female in her had snapped to attention and in a heartbeat she fell in lust. She might not have time for a relationship, but she could carve out a few minutes to relieve her sexual drought with this guy.

But then she’d noticed the emblem on the T-shirt which stretched across his broad chest. The T-shirt bearing the words Ocean Harbor Beach Fire Department. And she’d deflated like a popped balloon. How freakin’ unfair was it that the first guy in months to give her a jolt-and a freakin’ lightning-bolt jolt it had been-was a firefighter? Just to be sure, she’d casually asked him while she wrapped up the bouquet he ordered, hoping he’d tell her the shirt belonged to a friend or he’d bought it secondhand and he was an accountant. A waiter. A mechanic. Anything but a firefighter.

But he’d confirmed his occupation. And sealed his fate, at least as far as she was concerned. Even though her hormones screamed in protest, there was no way she’d act on that spark of attraction. When he’d given her the bouquet she’d just wrapped and asked her to dinner-and okay, it was a romantic gesture that from anyone else would have worked-she’d claimed she was involved. Which wasn’t a lie. Exactly. She was involved. With her new business. Settling into this new town. Keeping her busybody family at arm’s length.

She’d hoped her claim, along with her cool demeanor, would deter him, but he came in every week. And each time her pulse annoyingly jumped through hoops. He was always friendly and talkative and amusing and subtly flirtatious and way too tempting and she wished like hell he’d go away. On each visit he purchased something, either flowers or a plant, although it was clear he barely knew the difference between a daisy and a rose. Obviously he either had one woman in his life who really liked flowers or a bunch of different women. Given his good looks and the number of beach babes populating the boardwalk, she’d bet on a bunch of different women.

And now here he was again. Walking by her window. She hoped he was just taking a stroll, enjoying the lovely day. Maybe he wouldn’t come in-

The door opened, announcing his presence with a tinkling of the Christmas bells she’d attached to the top of the jamb along with mistletoe. Damn. And she couldn’t fob him off on Jayne as her assistant was running an errand. Maybe she’d return soon and Toni could perform the Brad pass-off. For now, however, she’d have to deal with him.

Their gazes met and her stupid pulse performed a somersault. Crap. Why did he have to be so attractive?

He’s not merely attractive, her suddenly alert hormones informed her. He is steaming hot.

Okay, fine. Steaming hot. Lots of men were steaming hot. Didn’t they litter those men’s cologne ads? Yes, they did. So what was it about this one that got under her skin? Maybe she was allergic to him. She instantly brightened. That’s all this was-a pesky allergy. One antihistamine and she’d be cured.

It’ll take more than an allergy pill to purge this guy from your system, her talkative hormones whispered. And he hasn’t even touched you. Or kissed you.

Touched her…kissed her…

An image popped into her mind, of him walking toward her. Not stopping or slowing down, just wrapping those strong arms around her, picking her up and still walking, until her back hit the wall. Settling his beautiful mouth on hers. His tongue slipping past her lips. His hard, muscular body pressing against her-

“’Morning, gorgeous.”

The deep masculine voice yanked Toni from her sensual reverie and she blinked. And realized he’d walked to the counter. And that now only the three-foot-wide slab of granite-and a dozen centerpieces-separated them. Three feet and a bunch of flowers she could easily reach across. Or jump over.

Heat rushed into her face and she inwardly winced. Great. Now she’d look blotchy. Annoyance-at herself for her runaway thoughts and at him for looking so damn tempting-skittered through her. A good dose of irritation followed, thanks to the way her heart sped up because he’d called her gorgeous. He undoubtedly called every woman that. It irked her no end that she wasn’t as immune to such meaningless flattery as she’d thought.

“Good morning,” she said, looking down, partly to keep from staring at him, partly to hide the flame scorching her cheeks. She stabbed pine into the centerpiece in front of her with far more force than necessary.

“You okay?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “You look sorta…flushed.”

Her head jerked up at that. Their gazes collided and she found herself staring into his beautiful, ocean-colored eyes, the sort you could drown in while trying to figure out if they were more green or blue.

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice laced with a hint of challenge, daring him to disagree.

Instead he nodded. Then grinned. “You sure are.”

That damn grin crinkled the corners of those beautiful eyes and annoyingly seemed to peel away several layers of muscle from her legs.

“It’s just the reflection of all these red leaves and decorations and lights,” she said, waving her hand to encompass the store.

His gaze followed her hand, pausing on the Christmas tree set in the window. “Pretty tree,” he said. “Is that a new addition?”

“It’s been there for the past two weeks.”

He returned his attention to her and smiled. Whoa. The grin was pretty damn great, but the full smile was potent with a capital P. Warm, flirty and intimate all at the same time. Another few layers of strength fled her knees without a backward glance. She stabbed in another piece of pine and pretended she didn’t feel it.

“Guess I was too busy looking at you to notice,” he said. “What are all those little red envelopes hanging on it?”

For an answer she handed him a flyer from the pile on the end of the counter. “The Twelve Steamy Nights of Christmas,” he read. His gaze flicked back up to hers. “Sounds promising.”

“It’s for charity,” she said quickly, groaning inwardly as the words poured from her like a flood-a curse that occurred whenever she was nervous. And dammit, he made her nervous. “Each envelope contains a gift for a…sensual night out.” Crap. Her tongue had tripped on the word sensual. “Local restaurants have donated meal cards, shops in the area gave gift cards, that sort of thing. For a twenty-five-dollar donation, you can pick any envelope you want. All the proceeds go to local charities.”

He nodded. “Very nice. Your idea?”

“Yes. It seemed a good way to introduce myself and Blooming Pails to the community and do some good at the same time.” Which was absolutely true-although the full truth was that after six months with zero sex, the idea was also inspired by her own deep desire for a steamy, sensual Christmas gift. But since nothing remotely resembling sexy, steamy, sensual-all those lovely S words-hovered in her immediate future, she’d just live vicariously through her customers.

“Great idea. Lots of folks need help, especially this time of year. A fire last night in Ocean Harbor Beach left a family homeless.”

Toni’s stomach clenched. “I’m sorry to hear that. Anyone hurt?”

“No, but they lost everything.”

“If they’re still alive, they didn’t lose anything that really matters.”

“True,” he agreed. “But it’s still a tough situation. The guys at all the stations in the county participate in a toy drive every Christmas. It’s really hard to think of kids not having a present from Santa to open.”