“Right. But if you do happen to meet someone suitably adoring and want to take advantage of the whole night-you’ll-never-forget vibe that this place has going, then give me a sign, and I’ll hide under the Christmas tree and pretend I’m not here.”

“I’m sure you’d be discreet.” He stepped closer to the tree. “It’s a beauty. Am I strange in preferring the one Holly decorated? I liked the way she concentrated as much festive bling as possible in one small space and left half of it bare.”

Alix grinned. “I liked that, too. Every year Christy waits for her to go to bed, and then she secretly tries to rearrange the decorations into something that satisfies her artistic side.”

“I can picture it.” He smiled, too. “And I bet Holly notices.”

“Every time.” Alix glanced from the tree to the fire flickering behind glass.

It really was romantic. Still, it was a relief to know he didn’t expect her to behave in a romantic way.

“Your turn to sleep in the bed.” She picked up her case. “I’ll take the sofa.”

“No need.” Zac stopped studying the Christmas tree and turned. He’d pushed the sleeves of his sweater up.

He had nice arms, she decided. And strong shoulders. And a good sense of humor, which was a greater source of attraction for her than all his other qualities combined.

“Don’t be a martyr. I know you have muscle aches after squishing yourself onto the sofa. This is me being generous. Say yes.”

“I should sleep on the sofa.”

“Why? Do you have some masochistic wish to wake up in pain every morning?”

“No. But it’s the gentlemanly, macho thing to do.”

“Excuse me?”

“I sleep on the sofa so I’m able to protect you from danger.”

She stared. “What danger?”

He gestured. “You never know what might come through that door.”

“Uh, Robyn with the morning pastries? If you’re going to wrestle her to the ground, we should maybe warn her.” She glanced from him to the sofa. “Is that why you slept on the sofa in the last cabin? You were protecting me from danger?” Would it amuse him to know that, for her, he was the danger?

“No, of course not. I slept on the sofa because you staked a claim on the bedroom and slammed the door in my face.”

“I was feeling vulnerable.”

“Yes, I got that.”

They were both teasing each other, but she really had been feeling vulnerable. “So where did this whole macho thing come from?”

He shrugged. “I thought that if you were going to be soppy and alluring, I ought to work a bit harder at being macho. If we’re doing stereotypes, let’s do it.”

She pushed up the sleeves of her sweater and planted her feet apart. “Okay. Go for it.”

“Go for what?”

“Be macho. I want to see what you’ve got.” She waved her hands. “Protect me from danger. Go.”

“I—”

“Sorry. Do you need me to be limp and vulnerable?” She pressed her forearm against her head. “Oh Zac, save me, save me!”