Kiss Me, Katie! & Hug Me, Holly!

Jill Shalvis Kiss Me, Katie! Hug Me, Holly!

© 2000

Dear Reader,

Ever kiss that perfect guy? In Kiss Me, Katie! my heroine thinks she has. Only problem, she laid her lips on the wrong guy, and now that wrong guy-the baddest, sexiest man in town, thank you very much-wants another kiss! And who can resist Bryan Morgan? Because once the daredevil rebel has his mind set on something, he gets it, and he most definitely has his mind set on Katie.

In Hug Me, Holly! my heroine doesn’t care about kisses. All this sophisticated city girl wants is to get the heck out of Nowhere Town, U.S.A. After all, the place doesn’t even have a dry cleaner! But Sheriff Riley McMann is gorgeous as sin and kisses like heaven. What is she supposed to do with a man like that, a man who can see right through her tough, bite-me veneer and still, still love her? Hopefully, keep him forever.

Happy holidays,

Jill Shalvis

Kiss Me, Katie!

1

SHE WAS REALLY going to do it, she was going to seduce Santa Claus. It wasn’t that she had a thing for guys in a white beard and red suit, although she did have to admit, she liked the belly laugh.

But what Katie Wilkins really wanted was the man beneath the costume. Mr. Perfect from the executive offices down the hall. He was everything she wanted in a man: mature, polished…safe. So safe that she’d known him all year and he hadn’t once made a move on her.

She hoped to change that tonight.

The holiday party was in full swing around her, even though Christmas was still three weeks away. Christmas carols blared out of speakers hanging from the rafters of the hangar, and everyone from the airplane mechanics to Mr. Riggs, the director of Wells Aircraft-the small, private airport where they all worked-was ready to party with the proper festive spirit.

The spiked punch helped.

Or that’s what Katie figured when she saw Mrs. Giddeon, their usually prim receptionist, with an empty glass in one hand and Mr. Riggs in the other, a decisively naughty gleam in her eye as she dragged him toward the mistletoe hanging from the nose of a jet parked in the far corner.

Then there were Dale, Jake and Evan, the linemen, and usually the most polite of young men, cheering and egging on Julie, Cassandra and Eloise, three of the women in her office, who were at the moment exhibiting go-go dancing skills to the tune of “Jingle Bell Rock.”

Katie shook her head in amazement. She hadn’t imagined this when she’d volunteered to decorate. She’d known everyone had been working hard, trying to keep up with the expansion plans that had them putting in long hours and stressful times with new clients. But to totally let loose? Was she the only grown-up here?

It felt like it.

And yet, from deep inside her came a yearning to join them, to brush off years of restraint, down a glass of spiked punch and toss caution to the wind.

Which brought her back to jumping Santa’s bones.

Katie glanced across the huge hangar, wildly decorated with gold and silver streamers, red and green ornaments, and of course the pathetic four-foot Christmas tree. Pathetic because, this being Southern California, and a drought year at that, the poor tree looked as though it were on its last legs.

Next to the straining tree stood Santa. Tall, smiling and charismatic. Because she knew who was under the suit, Matt Osborne, a.k.a. Mr. Perfect, her heart sighed.

Go for it, a little voice whispered in her head. Do it. Kiss him.

As a rule, Katie didn’t feel the holiday spirit. She wasn’t exactly Scrooge, but the truth was, she’d been Christmas cursed. It had all started when she was six. Her neighbor, Holly Stone, got the Barbie vacation house and Katie didn’t. Then, when they were twelve, and still neighbors, Holly cheated at her holiday party spin-the-bottle game in order to kiss the boy Katie had a crush on. The topper had come three years ago, when they’d been twenty-one-no longer neighbors, but in the small town of San Limo there was no escaping anyone-and Holly had stolen Katie’s fiance.

Her own fault really. Katie knew she was too careful, too methodical…too much like an accountant, darn it. Yes, she was happy enough, financially stable, yadda yadda.

But she was also dateless.

This was the year that would change. No more bad luck. She was going to see to it herself. She was going to make a Christmas wish, a really good one, and make sure it came true.

What she would wish for would be different from anything she’d ever wished for before. Not a new adding machine, not a new pair of slippers, not a new set of I.R.S. regulations. No, this year she wanted a knockout kiss from Matt Osborne; sophisticated, handsome, intelligent, and all-around perfect guy.

“You’re not going to chicken out, are you?”

Katie rolled her eyes, then because that was an irrationally childish gesture, she carefully schooled her features into indifference before turning to face Holly, aforementioned arch rival, and unfortunate co-worker. Holly was decked out in a sexy little silver-sequined number that blared self-confidence, and a perfect size-six frame, to the world.

“I never chicken out,” Katie said.

Holly laughed deeply. “We don’t have time to go down that road.”

“I don’t see you kissing anyone.”

“I’m not the one with a boring sex life.”

Nonexistent was more like it, Katie thought.

“Besides…” Holly examined her perfect manicure, which was neon red and topped with ten different, and very wicked, appliques of Santa in compromising situations. “If I wanted to kiss Matt, I’d just go right up to him, grab him and plant one on him. I’m not shy.”

No kidding. Katie had plenty of incidents to prove that one, years’ and years’ worth, but time was passing and she had a mission-getting Santa beneath the mistletoe, mistletoe she’d purposely planted in several spots with grand hopes for the evening ahead.

In light of that, Katie squinted across the action-filled hangar, past the confetti-covered Cessnas and Learjets and overdressed office staff, to the man in the red suit. “You sure Matt is the one in there?”

They both studied Santa. He had a red festive hat, a white beard and mustache. He also wore the required stuffed belly and red suit. He looked…jolly. But that could have been caused by the very spiked punch. Truthfully, other than being the correct height, which was approximately six feet tall, there was absolutely no way to be certain who was under there.