Under the Millionaire's Mistletoe

“This is crazy,” she whispered, shaking her head as if she couldn’t believe what was happening between them.

Sam knew exactly how she felt. “Doesn’t seem to matter,” he said, as he took a step closer to her.

An uneasy laugh shot from her throat. “We are not doing that again.”

“Why not?” Yeah, he knew this was trouble. But he didn’t really care.

“Because…” She mentally searched for a good reason and apparently came up empty. Still struggling for breath, she added, “We’re just not going to, trust me. And if you won’t leave, then I will.”

She swept past him, chin lifted, head held high.

“Good night, Anna Cameron,” he said softly.

She stopped, looked over her shoulder at him and said pointedly, “Goodbye, Sam Hale.”

Three

Sam didn’t leave.

Instead, he wandered through the party, listening to snippets of conversation even as he tried to get her out of his mind. She wouldn’t go, though. Instead, he kept seeing her eyes, filled with fury and dazzled with passion. He heard her voice, standing up to him as no one had dared do in years. She hadn’t backed down. She’d stood her ground and challenged him. Argued with him.

And then kissed him senseless.

Why the hell had a woman like her ever dated Garret? he asked himself. She was way too much woman for his younger brother. Which led him back to his original thought, that she had only been dating Garret to try to help her father’s company.

But if that were true, why wouldn’t she have tried to snag Sam? Why not go for the head of the business?

He accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter, had a sip, then set the flute down again on a nearby table. His gaze scanned the crowd, noting the decorations, the Christmas tree that had to stand ten feet tall and the mountain of small gifts beneath it, tokens for their guests, all wrapped in bright paper and festive ribbons.

Sam didn’t know whether to admire Dave Cameron for going ahead with a party when times were so bad for his company, or to pity him for being a fool. The snippets of conversations he’d heard throughout the place told him that everyone in the room knew about Dave’s troubles, so this party wasn’t fooling anyone. Why do it, then?

“Having a good time?”

The voice behind him caught Sam off guard and his shoulders stiffened. He should have known that Dave Cameron would come and find him. Especially considering the man’s wife had probably reported seeing Sam and Anna kissing like teenagers in the backseat of a car.

Turning, he held out his hand. “It’s a good party, Dave.”

“Glad you could come,” the other man said, shaking his hand. “Don’t recall seeing you here last year.”

Or any other year. Sam didn’t usually get involved in community activities. The only reason he was here this year was because he’d wanted a look at Anna. Now, he wanted another, longer look at her. “You know how it is,” he said, “never enough time to relax.”

“You should take the time,” Dave told him. “There’s more to life than business.”

“So I hear.”

The older man watched him thoughtfully. “Clarissa tells me you and Anna have… met.”

Uncomfortable, Sam hedged. No doubt, the story of that mistletoe kiss had already made the rounds, thanks to Clarissa. As it was, he felt the stares of at least a dozen people. Small towns were notorious for gossip, and Sam knew he and Anna were going to be the hot topic for at least a few days.

“Yeah. That’s a long story, though,” he said and gave a quick look around at the surrounding crowd. “Not really the time for it now.”

Nodding, Dave said, “I’ll look forward to hearing it.”

“Right.” Not a conversation Sam wanted to have. “Well, I only stopped by to wish you a Merry Christmas, so I think I’ll be going.”

“No need to rush off,” Dave told him. “Stay, enjoy yourself.”

The only way that would happen is if he could get Anna to himself again. And because the chance of that was slim, there was really no point in sticking around.

“I appreciate it. Another time.” He took a step, then stopped and added, “Say good night to Anna for me.”

Let her explain the situation to her father, he thought with an inner smile.

“Now that’s a gorgeous Christmas tree.”

Anna stepped back to admire her own handiwork and smiled at her best friend, Tula Barrons. Her real name was Tallulah, but heaven help you if you actually called her that. Tula’s blond hair was cut short, close to her head. She wore silver hoop earrings, a blue tunic sweater and black jeans with navy blue boots.

“Thanks,” Anna said. “I like a lot of lights.”

“Yeah, they’ll probably be able to spot that tree from space.” Tula grinned as she carried in the lattes she’d gotten at the corner coffee bar.

Anna studied the tall Douglas fir. There were only four strands of a hundred lights on it. “Can you really overdo Christmas?” she wondered aloud. “I don’t think so.”

Tula handed her one of the lattes and took a long look at the tree herself. After a second or two, she nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“Plus, it looks great in the front window and maybe it’ll draw in some holiday business.” She could use it, Anna thought. Her shop, Faux Reality, had been all too quiet for the last couple of weeks.

But then, people weren’t really thinking about faux finishes or trompe l’oeil paintings on their walls right now. They were too busy buying presents and baking. All good, she told herself, because Anna, too, loved the Christmas season. But she could do with a really big job about now, so she could go and do some Christmas shopping herself.

Tula took a sip of her latte and looked at Anna over the rim. “Is business that bad?”

Anna sighed. As a writer of children’s books, Tula had her own worries, but at least she understood that making a career out of the “arts” was usually feast or famine. “Bad enough that I took a couple of quickie jobs painting storefront windows. Art is art, right? I mean, Christmas trees on windows is still painting.”

“Absolutely.” After taking another sip, Tula nodded and said, “So, I heard all about the big mistletoe kiss last night.”

Anna choked on a gulp of hot latte. “You heard? How? Where?”

“Are you kidding?” Her friend laughed. “You’ve lived in Crystal Bay your whole life, just like me. You know the grapevine in town works faster than a Google search.”

“Oh, God.” Suddenly, the brightly lit tree wasn’t uplifting her spirits quite so much anymore.

“Oh, yeah,” Tula said, walking to the front counter and dropping onto one of the high-backed stools. “So spill. Tell me everything. Word is you and Sam Hale were lip-locked so completely that steam was lifting off the tops of your heads.”

“Oh, this is perfect,” Anna muttered.

“Sure sounded like it,” Tula agreed, then asked, “still, I’m dying to know…wasn’t it weird kissing the brother of the guy you used to go out with?”

Weird wasn’t the word she’d use, Anna thought. Hot. Passionate. Intense. Crazy, even. All good words. Weird? Not so much.

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” she said, moving to hang one of her antique ornaments from a high branch of the tree.

“Nice attempt at evasion,” Tula told her with a laugh. “But no way are you getting out of this. I left the party early, so I didn’t see the show you two put on. But ac cording to Kate, down at Espresso Heaven, people clear