Thank you for your continued interest. I appreciate it.

I do not own Glee or the characters, neither do I own Chasing Christmas Eve.

When Sam got home, he was far too keyed up to sleep.

Thinking he'd work, he went to his office and logged on to his computer. But his concentration was even more shot tonight, than it had been all week.

So he gave up and went to bed, telling himself he'd get back at it tomorrow.

But he didn't.

Not that day...or the next three.

That was because, for three straight days, he'd pulled Mercedes from her apartment and knocked something off her list.

He took her shopping in Union Square, for dim sum in Chinatown, and wine tasting in Napa Valley.

But not the nights.

The nights he worked...not full throttle, because his brain felt otherwise occupied, with the sweet and sexy Mercedes Jones.

But he did try.

And as he stared at his screens, he realized, he was actually making a very real, very serious attempt, at balancing her and work.

As for whether he was being successful at it, the jury was still out.

But three days in, he sent what he had to both Christian and Noah...who was consulting with them on the security end...hoping, one of them might be able to put a finger on what he was missing.

Then, he dragged his exhausted ass into bed.

It was now three a.m. and Sam looked at his phone for the first time all day.

There were three new marriage proposals. One request for a picture of his bare feet...that was a new one. And a stack of e-mails from investors wanting him to come in on their ideas and bankroll them.

He deleted everything, then deleted three e-mails from Finn.

After that, he tossed his phone aside.

Then he stared at his window, where the building's holiday lights were blinking, making his eyes rattle in his head.

With that, he took back up his phone and texted Kitty.

Sam: Your lights are giving me a seizure.

The Ruler of Your Universe: Do what the rest of us do in the middle of the night...shut your damn eyes.

Sam: Seriously. Wake up and shut off the lights.

The Ruler of Your Universe: I'm not sleeping. I'm doing one of your best friends.

Sam: Overshare! Shut off the fucking lights, Kitty.

The Ruler of Your Universe: Okay, Grinch, sheesh...

Again, Sam tossed his phone aside.

Grinch.

He wasn't a Grinch.

And just because he chose not to use it, didn't mean that his heart was two sizes too small.

He handled the holiday season just fine.

At that thought, he looked around his place. Not one holiday decoration was in sight, not so much as a single strand of tinsel.

Okay, so maybe the holidays tended to get to him.

His mom was already back east and would be there for weeks. And his only other blood relative, preferred a damn alley to a perfectly nice, warm apartment.

And yeah, he had his friends and he was grateful for them, but...well...he still wasn't feeling the spirit.

Especially knowing, that by Christmas Day, the one person he'd love to celebrate with...would be gone.

Shaking his head, he rolled over and closed his eyes, hoping that sleep would claim him, and claim him fast.

Sam was deep into the best dream of his life, doing things to Mercedes, that were making her cry out for more.

"Sam..."

'Yeah, that's right,' he thought. 'Say my name, scream it...'

"He's smiling in his sleep," came Noah's voice. "Why is he smiling in his sleep?"

"Maybe he's making a breakthrough," Christian said. "Don't wake him up, in case he's solving all our problems."

"I bet he's dreaming about a woman," Noah said. "Not work."

Christian snorted.

"With this problem unsolved? Not likely."

"He's only human, man."

"But that's the thing...he's not human," Christian said. "He's a machine and he's on the job. That's all that matters to him. Right, Sam? Wake the fuck up and tell him you're solving our problems in your sleep and not hooking up."

At that, Sam came out of the dream.

"Why are you in my bedroom?" he asked, without opening his eyes.

"Uh...because we have a meeting," Christian said, sounding ticked off.

"Had," Noah said. "You missed it."

"Shit!" Sam sat up. Daylight was streaming into his bedroom. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Time for you to tell us if you were bit by a vampire or a woman," Noah said, eyeing his neck. "I vote vampire, because when you're this deep into a project, you can't remember your own damn name, much less enough niceties to get laid."

Sam didn't bother to cover the hickey on his neck, the one Mercedes had given him yesterday, after he'd taken her for the dim sum in Chinatown.

He loved that hickey.

Instead, he gave them each a shove off his bed and slid out from beneath the covers, to head into his bathroom.

"Jesus!" Christian said, shielding his eyes. "Warn a guy, would you? Put some fucking clothes on."

A pair of pants hit Sam in the back of his head.

It was Noah's doing, because Christian couldn't throw to save his life.

Sam let the pants fall to the floor and headed straight into his shower...naked as the day he was born, without so much as a glance at either of them.

"Think he got laid?" he heard Christian ask.

"Hope he did," Noah said. "He's been pissy as hell."

"I'm not pissy!" Sam yelled, turning on the water.

"Nope," Christian said. "He didn't get laid."

That morning, Mercedes sat in the coffee shop with her laptop.

Her fingers were moving on the keyboard, which is always a good thing.

She was writing something new and she had absolutely no idea if it was any good. But she figured she could fix crap on a page.

What she couldn't fix...was a blank page.

But, the important thing, was that she'd been in San Francisco for nine days now and her rough draft was coming along with shocking ease, thrilling her heart.

And she was several pages in, when she recognized the battered athletic shoes that came into her vision.

She let her gaze run up a set of long denim-covered legs, passed a jacket and an untucked, unbuttoned shirt, over a T-shirt that said Ride or Die, and felt all her good spots tingle.

"Hey," Sam said. He had a black Lab at his side on a leash and was holding a coffee to-go cup and a brown bag that smelled amazingly delicious.

"Hey," she replied.

Her stomach growled, reminding her that she'd only had coffee and she'd missed breakfast hours ago.

"Something smells like heaven on earth," she said.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, but I don't think it's you," she said. "It's whatever's in your bag."

Just then, Wendy just happened to be walking passed her table with a tall, good-looking guy. They kissed and he got in line for them, while she stopped to talk.

"Don't even bother asking Sam to share," she told Mercedes. "He never shares his muffins. Ever."

At that, Sam gave the bag to Mercedes and Wendy sputtered.

"Are you kidding me?" she asked.

But Sam just smiled at her and handed her the black Lab's leash.

"I've got to get to work, but he's done his business."

Wendy pointed at him.

"I could tattle on you for sharing your muffins with her and not us...you know that, right? Your life as you know it would be over."

"You really want to tell stories, Wendy?" He gave her a long look, that obviously meant something to her, because she sighed and rolled her eyes.

"You fight dirty," she muttered.

"Remember that," he said, and when she moved off with the dog at her side, he reached for Mercedes' hand and said, "Break time."

"But you just told Wendy you had to get to work."

"And I do. But this first. Get up, Mercedes. We're going to do this and it's going to be good."

'Oh boy,' she thought.

Butterflies danced low in her belly as she shut her laptop, slipped it into her bag, and stood up.

"Um...I feel like I should warn you, I haven't done laundry yet, so I'm not in my best lingerie..." Mercedes started.

She broke off at the wide grin Sam flashed her.

"God bless America," she said on an expulsion of air. "You didn't mean sex at all, did you?"

"Hey, I'm nothing if not flexible," he said. "We can work it into the plans. If you're a very good girl."

He leaned in and put his mouth to her ear.

"But being bad works too," he added.

When he pulled back, she had to blink away the sensual fog he'd put her in, seemingly with no effort at all.

"You're talking like we're going to..." She broke off and bit her lower lip. "Like it's for sure going to happen."

His low laugh was sexy as hell.

"Trust me, it's going to happen."

And just like that, Mercedes couldn't feel her legs, so she sat back down, her face so heated, she was afraid to touch it.

With a laugh, Sam took her heavy bag from her shoulder and slung it over one of his.

Then, he pulled her back up and tugged her along with him across the courtyard.

They both went out the gate to the street and down half a block, where he shepherded her into that beautiful '57 Chevy of his.

"Where are we going?" she asked, as he pulled out into the street.

But he just smiled.

"Are you kidnapping me?" she asked.

"Eat your muffins."

"You mean your muffins."

But she opened the bag and happily busied herself eating them.

Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a huge parking complex for some biotech company.

And Sam flashed his ID at the guard gate.

"Where are we?" Mercedes asked.

"Mission District."

He pulled to a far corner of the vast parking lot and got out of the truck. And before she could figure out what he meant to do, he came around, opened her door, unbuckled her, lifted her, then dropped her behind the wheel.

"I don't know how to drive," she said.

"We're going to change that. Number nine on your list, remember?"

Mercedes blinked, even as a surge of excitement barreled through her.

She was going to learn how to drive!

"I hope you have good insurance," she said.

Stay safe!