The Mistletoe Affair

neck of mine.'

“Who me?” Maybe she should let him try to climb up the side of the house, and fall and break his neck. It would serve him right. Whoa, he had shown exceptional prowess in climbing that roof yesterday, and if he made it up, neck intact, he'd be standing in the middle of her bedroom… sitting on her bed, while they talked. She swallowed hard, tugging at the hem of her nightshirt. “Hold on, I'll come down.'

He held both hands up. “Oh, no, you don't. And that's not debatable, Katherine. I can't possibly catch you when you fall.'

She laughed. “I have no intention of climbing out the window. Meet me at the back door. We can talk in the kitchen.'

Realizing she was actually running to meet him like some adolescent schoolgirl, she slowed her pace. Determined not to act like other women, who fell all over him, she clamped down on her feelings, turned the teakettle on, unlocked the back door and waited for him.

A furrowed brow etched his forehead when he entered the kitchen. “I left my hammer in your garage.'

She blinked in amazement. “What? You came here in the middle of the night for a hammer?'

Shifting his weight from one foot to another, he stared down at the floor. “It's a very important hammer.'

She folded her arms and lifted an eyebrow. “Okay, Counselor, I'll bite. Why is it so important?'

His gaze rose to the table, as if mesmerized by the elephant shaped place mats. “It belonged to… Aunt Harriet.'

“I see.” She leaned her backside against the sink; arms still crossed and fought an inner smile. The discomfort on his face when he looked up at her was so comical she couldn't resist baiting him a little while longer. After all the discomfort he had caused her on the roof, not to mention the dance floor, he seemed due a little himself. “Hammering something, is that all you're thinking about? Why couldn't it wait until morning?'

He stared at her blank-faced, but for the rosy blush creeping up, signaling the direction of his thoughts.

She moved closer, punctuating each question with her index finger in his muscular chest. “Your aunt never owned a hammer in her life, did she? Admit it. You simply felt worried about Matt and me. Isn't that the truth?” She shrugged. “Although for the life of me, I don't know why.'

Sheepishly, he pulled the hammer from his pocket, laid it on the table and removed his coat. “I thought you wouldn't let me in to check on you.'

His gaze roamed her body and his eyes darkened, obviously pleased with her baggy T-shirt that had seen better days. The sensual look he gave her made the toes on her bare feet curl with a pleasure she hadn't felt in ages.

He finally lifted his head and studied her face. “I can't help staring. It's the first time I've seen your shapely legs and sexy red toenails.” He whistled softly, his gaze traveling back down her body. “You shouldn't hide them-at least not around me.'

Her face grew hot. No one had ever whistled at her.

His arm began to rise. He's going to touch me. Inside, the rational adult shouted ‘Stop him,’ but the passionate woman inside her whispered ‘Let him,” and it was the whisper she responded to.

He touched her face, ever so gently. His fingers gliding over her skin, as if he wanted to make sure she was real and safe. Heat drifted over her lips and cheeks, with each stroke he made. Wherever he lingered, her skin felt scorched. His gaze held hers. “I saw Paul's car parked in the drive and kept imagining all sorts of scenarios-all bad.'

The teakettle screeched and they jumped. His hand dropped to his side, and they stepped away from each other. Alarmed at the depth of response he had aroused in her, she took a deep breath, inhaling his masculine scent that swirled around her, and offered him a place at the table.

Trying to hide her flushed face, she fumbled with the lid on the instant mocha, almost toppling the jar. She could feel his gaze on her as she prepared two mugs of coffee, set them down and seated herself across from him.

“Thanks,” he said. He inhaled the aroma and took a large gulp. “I'm addicted to chocolate.'

“Me, too. Can't go a day without it.'

They exchanged grins. His brow arched.

I can't believe I said, ‘I can't go a day without it'-not IT-I meant chocolate.

As if he read her thoughts, he said, “Relax. I knew what you meant.'

She wrapped her hands around her cup. “What's the most chocolate you've eaten in one day?'

“An entire box of chocolate chip cookies.” He leaned back in his chair, leisurely crossing his long legs. “I had a particularly bad court case and couldn't stop eating them.'

“Uh huh,” she said, moving her gaze down his relaxed length, stopping at his scuffed cowboy boots. She'd forgotten how enjoyable the simple act of sitting in a kitchen talking with a man could be-and how stimulating.

He took another gulp. “And you?'

“A huge tub of chocolate mint ice cream-my favorite stash. I was carrying Matt so I had a good excuse.” She sipped her coffee. “Not that I really needed one, but people don't understand how someone could love chocolate that much, do they?'

He shook his head. They grinned at one another again, and their smiles faded as his gaze captured and held hers.

She swallowed hard, noting his sober expression.

“Katherine, I grew concerned about you because of your reaction when Paul first arrived. I began to wonder if you and Matt should be in the same room with him.'

Following a sip, she assured Jared his worries were unfounded. “Paul isn't the violent type.'

“What type is he?'

Before she could answer, the harsh sound of Jared plunking his cup down caught her full attention. He rammed both hands through his hair and leaned forward, his elbows splayed across the table. She lifted her brow at his slightly crazed and very intense expression. If this is what he looked like when he argued a case before a jury, no wonder he'd always won. He'd frighten any opposition clear into the next state. “Earlier tonight when you frowned at Paul, he ignored you and did whatever he damned well pleased. Is he the type of man who respects a woman's right to say no?'

She nibbled at her lower lip, remembering when Paul put his arm around her waist and pulled her into him. “Paul isn't used to having women say ‘No'.” Her face heated. “And he doesn't say no to them either. That's the trouble. He doesn't believe in monogamy-even when he's married.'

“Are you saying he ran around on you?'

She nodded.

He shook his head and cursed. “He's a fool. If he starts crowding you and you object, let me know.'

She lifted her chin. “That won't be necessary. I can handle Paul. I did it once before, remember?'

His jaw muscles worked.

“It isn't your problem. It's mine. And that's not debatable, Jared Randall.” She tried to take some of the sting out of the words, “But I do thank you for at least being concerned. I just need to get through the holidays, that's all.'

Thinking of the crowding that Paul had tried tonight, she didn't want any more trouble-from anyone. A little advanced planning and determination on her part would make sure that what happened with Paul didn't happen again. And Paul said he would abide by whatever boundaries she set, so the problem would not arise again.

Jared's deep-blue gaze clouded with concern and roamed her face. “One thing's still bothering me. Why did Grace blurt out all those lies about you and Paul?'

She looked up at the ceiling.

“Don't try and deny they were lies. I'm an attorney, remember? I pride myself in reading people's body language.” He smiled warmly. “And I read you like an open book.'

“I felt forced to lie about why we divorced. Dad was too ill.” She returned her gaze to his when he took her hands. “After that, I felt ashamed and tried to keep it private. No one knows except Paul-and now you.'

“Dammit, you don't have anything to be ashamed of.” He released her hands. “Does Grace like Paul?'

Her mouth rounded. “Why would you ask a thing like that?'

“The venomous looks Grace shot his way. Paul never saw them, but I did. Loud and clear.'

Katherine shook her head, feeling like she'd taken the witness stand. “He's the only man my mother didn't fix