A Sure Thing?

'What do you have, sixteen arms?' he asked. 'How are you making those snowballs so fast?'

'Ha! Like I'm going to tell you. But the fact that I'm wearing gloves helps.'

Another ball of white whizzed by his ear. 'How about giving me one of those gloves?'

'Forget it. Not when there's chocolate on the line.'

'What happened to fair play and all that?'

'All's fair in snowball war.'

Peeking around the tree trunk, he took aim and threw, catching her on the arm. 'Take that.'

A snowball exploded just below his chin. He glared at her, and she favored him with an evil chuckle.

'You're going down, Davidson.'

'Not without a fight.'

Over the next ten minutes, he managed to get in a few good shots, but with his fingers growing numb, and her freakin' dead-eye aim, he had to face the fact that he only had one chance of winning. Gathering up his last few snowballs, he crouched low and ran like hell toward her.

'I'm storming the citadel,' he yelled, furiously throwing his remaining weapons.

'You're toast,' she yelled back, pelting him at close range with a double whammy that caught him in the shoulder and the chin.

With a low growl, he caught her around the waist as she bent to grab another handful of snow. She squealed, and tried to break away, throwing him off balance. Unable to catch himself, he fell forward, landing half on top of her just as she fell, face down, in the snow.

He immediately pushed himself up onto his hands. 'Jeez, Jilly, are you okay?'

She rolled over and glared at him through snowflake flecked lashes. 'Yeah, I'm swell.'

'Did I hurt you?'

She wiped her wet face with the back of her glove, but as her gloves were wet, it didn't help much. 'Only my pride.'

He exhaled his relief. 'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tackle you-you threw me off balance.' His gaze wandered over her and he grinned. 'Looks like I win.'

Her eyes goggled. 'You? You, who couldn't hit the side of an elephant with a handful of rice? You, who couldn't hit water if you fell out of a boat?'

'Ah, but you said that the one with the most snow on him loses, and you-' his gaze traveled pointedly down her snow-covered front '-clearly have more snow on you.'

'Only because you flung me face down in the snow.'

'I didn't fling. I tripped. And only because you squealed and flailed your arms around like a girl.'

'That wasn't a squeal, it was a shout of surprise at being manhandled by the enemy. And I wasn't flailing, I was trying to regain my balance after you knocked me off my feet, you big klutz. And here's a news flash for you-I am a girl.'

He looked down into those big, golden-brown eyes, and it suddenly struck him more forcefully than ever that she was very much a girl. And that he was very much a guy. And that all his guy stuff was pressed against the length of all her girl stuff.

Desire sucker-punched him in the gut. She must have read it in his eyes because she suddenly went completely still beneath him, and awareness and heat flared in her gaze.

He meant to shift off her, surely he did, but his muscles refused to move. Still, certainly he would have pushed himself off her-but then her gaze dropped to his mouth.

That look touched him like a caress, and he bit back a groan of want. Before all the reasons he shouldn't raised their voices, he leaned down and touched his mouth to hers. Certainly he meant it only to be a light kiss, experimental, but after a few seconds her lips-those beautiful, soft, tempting lips-parted, and her tongue brushed against his. And all bets were off.

He moaned-or was that her?-and slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue tasting all the warm, secret lusciousness of her. Every part of him that had been icy cold only seconds earlier, heated like he'd stepped into a brushfire. Clearly she'd sampled her candy earlier because she tasted like chocolate-sweet and delicious. And everything about her, from the feel of her pressed against him to her luscious taste, made him want to devour her.

The frosty, wet wool of her gloved fingers brushed his nape, shooting a shiver down his spine, and rousing his drugged senses enough to remind him of where he was. And whom he was with.

Slowly lifting his head, he looked down into eyes darkened with arousal, yet flickering with the same wary expression he knew was reflected in his own eyes.

He needed to say something-preferably something along the lines of boy, that was a big mistake we'd better not let happen again-but damned if he could find his voice. All he could do was stare at her and fight the overwhelming urge to kiss her again. And again.

Finally she cleared her throat. 'I have a confession to make.'

'What's that?' he said in a croaky, husky voice he didn't recognize.

'I'd… wondered.'

He didn't pretend to misunderstand. 'Well, in that case, I have a confession to make as well. I'd wondered, too.'

'Finding out probably wasn't a great idea.'

'Right.'

'We can sum that kiss up in four words: severe lack of judgment.'

'Right.'

'And now that we've satisfied our mutual curiosity, we can just…?' Her voice trailed off, and her gaze searched his, as if seeking the correct ending to her sentence.

'We can just forget about it.' His lips said the words, but he had a sinking feeling that if he lived to be a hundred, he'd never forget that kiss.

'Forget about it. Exactly. That would definitely be best.'

'Definitely.'

Forcing himself to move, he rolled off her, then rose to his feet. Extending his hands, he helped her to stand.

'Your hands are like ice, Matt.'

He looked down at his reddened fingers with a rueful expression. 'Yeah. I think rigor mortis has set in-that's Latin for 'I should have worn gloves.'' He thrust his hands into his jacket pockets, telling himself it was to warm them, but it was really to keep from drawing her into his arms and seeing what kiss number two would be like.

Glancing down, he saw a perfectly made snowball resting at the base of the tree. 'You forgot one,' he said, indicating the missile with a jerk of his head.

She noted the snowball, then smiled at him. 'That was the one that was going to finish you off.'

'Much as I hate to admit it, you'd already finished me off. If there were an Olympic snowball fight team, you'd bring home the gold. Where'd you learn to throw snowballs like that?'

'I played centerfield for my high school softball team. We won four state championships.' She batted her eyelashes. 'Did I neglect to mention that?'

'Uh-uh. And if I weren't so impressed by your ability, I'd be royally pissed. Personally, I think you should give up advertising and try out for the major leagues.'

'Hmmm. That would be one way to eliminate me from the competition.'

He laid one frozen hand over his heart. 'I say that strictly as a baseball fan whose beloved sport is badly in need of your skills.'

'I'm sure you like to tell yourself that.'

'Well, one thing I don't like to tell myself is that you whipped my butt, but you did.' He bowed from the waist. 'I am vanquished.' His gaze drifted over her lips and he pushed aside the disturbing thought that she'd conquered him in more ways than one.

She looked smug, but at least she didn't say I told you so. 'Looks like you're going to have to give me whatever I want.'

'Within reason,' he reminded her. 'I guess that wasn't such a smart wager on my account. Of course, I didn't