Under The Mistletoe With John Doe

with him flew out the window.

As he lowered his mouth to hers, his musky, masculine scent assaulted her better judgment and set her mind swirling in a maelstrom of desire.

This was so not what she’d planned, but it no longer seemed to matter.

He brushed his lips against hers, once, twice, a third time. Then he took her mouth and claimed it as his own.

The kiss intensified, and she opened her mouth, letting his tongue mate with hers. She leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him, holding him close.

Closing her eyes, she let herself go, losing herself in a surge of pheromones and need, kissing him deeply, thoroughly.

She couldn’t remember the last time she and Doug had kissed-certainly long before their split. But she couldn’t remember it being anything like this. She tried to blame it on hormones and the sexual drought she’d been living in since her divorce. But something told her it had nothing to do with biology and everything to do with the man whose hands were exploring her back, her hips, her…

Oh, Lordy. Her knees were giving out on her, and an ache was settling deep in her core, demanding she throw caution to the wind. But Doug’s deception was still too fresh on her mind, and so was her decision not to get involved with a stranger.

So she placed her hand on John’s chest, where his heart pounded in a primal rhythm, announcing that the kiss had touched him in the same reckless way that it had her.

But someone had to be strong, had to consider the repercussions. And as she gave a gentle push against him, as she pulled her mouth from his, she grieved for what she was denying them.

He sucked in a breath and raked a hand through his hair, as though taken aback by the heat of what they’d just shared.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be.”

It had only been a kiss, a small voice inside her argued. But it had been so much more than a kiss. It had been a sexual prelude to something she could only imagine.

“I shouldn’t have let that happen,” she said. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea about what? The fact that we’re attracted to each other? That kissing you again could lead to a whole lot more?”

All she had left was her honesty. “It was good to say the least. But a physical relationship isn’t a good idea for either one of us at this point in time.”

She’d already made one mistake in her life: she’d fallen for a man who wasn’t the person she’d thought he was. And she was on the verge of repeating the same mistake.

If she hadn’t already.

Chapter Six

Betsy was in trouble.

Big trouble.

With her mind spinning, her senses reeling and her knees struggling to keep her body upright, she left John on the porch of Doc’s house and returned home, determined to put the kiss they’d shared behind her. But she couldn’t seem to get it out of her mind.

Had another man’s kiss ever rocked her to the core like John’s had? If so, she couldn’t remember who the accomplished kisser could have been.

Certainly not Doug.

Once she let herself into the privacy of her cozy living room, she tried all of her old tricks for relaxing-a warm bubble bath and a cup of chamomile tea-but she didn’t sleep a wink that night.

She finally picked up a book she’d been meaning to read, something she’d borrowed from Doc a few weeks ago and had set on her nightstand. But the opening pages of the mystery couldn’t compete with the memory that still simmered in her mind, and she couldn’t seem to lose herself in a fictional story. Not when she was so caught up in the reality of what had just happened.

By the time dawn broke over the ranch, she finally dozed off for a couple of hours. But she was up again by nine and decided to take a shower and start her day.

As she looked into the bathroom mirror, she saw those dark crescents under her eyes that Doc always managed to spot. She’d have to use makeup today or risk having him say something again.

All she needed was for Doc-or worse, John-to realize that she’d hardly slept a wink last night and to assume the kiss had anything to do with it. Trouble was, it had knocked her world off its axis. And she didn’t want anyone to suspect that she was the least bit unbalanced by it.

So she showered and shampooed her hair. After drying off, she dressed quickly, choosing a pair of comfortable blue jeans and a green sweater. Next she applied a light coat of foundation, taking care to conceal the circles under her eyes, and topped it off with a bit of lipstick and mascara. Then she blow-dried her hair.

She didn’t take time to do anything to it, other than pull it back in a rubber band. She had to get out of here. There was no way she could hang out at the ranch today and risk running into John.

What would she say to him? How would she act?

Sure, she’d told him last night that a relationship between them wasn’t going anywhere. And it wasn’t. She couldn’t allow anything like that to happen until she knew more about him, about the values and personal ethics that drove him.

And whether he had a family waiting for him somewhere.

So, eager to disappear for the day, she called her parents and asked if they wanted to get a bite to eat.

“We play with our bridge group at two,” her dad said. “But we’d love to have an early lunch with you, honey. What time will you be here?”

She glanced at her wristwatch. “About ten-thirty. We can decide where to go when I get there.”

After ending the call, she grabbed her purse and walked out of the house, planning to make a beeline to her car. But once outside, she spotted Doc’s red Chevy S-10 pickup with its hood raised.

John stood in front of the vehicle, peering at the engine as if checking the oil or fixing a loose wire.

As much as she’d like to blend into the ranch scenery and fade into the distance, she knew he would notice her and that she’d have to acknowledge him somehow.

And she’d been right. Just as she reached her car, John slammed down the hood and brushed his hands together.

Okay, she thought, it was showtime.

The minute he spotted her, a smile broke across his face, giving him a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed appearance. It seemed pretty safe to assume that thoughts of the kiss hadn’t interrupted his sleep habits in the least.

“Good morning,” she said, trying to appear cheerful and unaffected by the sight of him, even though her heart was doing loop de loops.

Her steps slowed as she watched him approach, the late-morning sun glistening off the black strands of his hair, his blue eyes glimmering.

“Are you going someplace?” he asked.

She fingered the narrow shoulder strap of her purse. “Into town to see my folks. Why?”

“I have an appointment with Dr. Kelso at ten-thirty, and Doc said I could use his truck. But it won’t start. It’s turning over, so it’s not the battery. I have a feeling it’s going to need a new starter, but I don’t have time to work on it now.”

Was he a mechanic? Or did most men have an innate understanding of engines and motors?

She hated not knowing which it was in his case. And even worse, she hated the fact that she was always making assumptions about him, any or all of which could be way off base.

“I don’t suppose I could catch a ride with you?” he said.

Jim Kelso’s office was just a block or so down the street from Shady Glen, so it wouldn’t be out of her way to