Miracles and Mistletoe

by Cait London

  She’d been startled with her decision to zap Jonah into submissiveness. She’d simply reached out, grabbed him and fogged him with what she wanted him to do.

  The warning bells on her bracelet seemed to be disarmed when Jonah was near. Her senses, emotions and bodily impulses to attack him went into overdrive.

  She swirled the two cloves and they nestled together in the bottom of her cup. She sloshed the liquid gently to get the cloves to separate, but they remained together, cuddling together in the hot, sweet cider like— Harmony discarded the word “lovers.”

  She remembered Jonah’s statement about her kiss. She hadn’t “come at a man like that” so he’d “get ideas.” Jonah had some weird idea that she’d kissed him because she wanted him.

  Why would she want Jonah Fargo? A nasty-mannered, tall, time-battered, tough cowboy, with lightning and thunder eyes when they weren’t smoky with dreams of her wearing a transparent black nightie... and a Santa Claus cap, his very own round, firmly packed Christmas present. He’d wanted to pick her up and lay her down on the pickup seat—

  Right. As if any man could pick her up. Jonah certainly had big ideas and a real high opinion of his strength. He appreciated her round backside, like a potential buyer for a mare at auction.

  Harmony frowned and placed the empty cup aside as she remembered something else Jonah had thought at his house. She’d forgotten or dismissed it then, but now it surged into her mind. What was that he thought about “‘tasting her sweet sassy mouth to shut her up’?”

  Men had said she was classy, aloof, pleasant, easygoing, conservative and warm. They had never said anything about being sweet and sassy, and not one of them had pictured her in a black nightie.

  Pax had said Jonah wasn’t a womanizer. Uh-huh. Right. Harmony remembered Jonah’s vision of what he wanted to do with June. When he’d thought about kissing the birthmark on her buttock, Harmony had merely been a woman in his vicinity; she’d been drenched in his excess of sensual-need residue for June.

  Her thoughts slammed to a stop and she looked up to see Janice and Pax watching her with smug, benign little smiles.

  Harmony frowned back at them. No, she would not kiss Jonah under the mistletoe ball.

  No, she hadn’t met her match as Pax was thinking; he was relishing her demise as his “unattached little sister.” Janice was hoping for a really beautiful wedding.

  Pax plotted to take Janice on a second honeymoon while Jonah helped Harmony with the ranch and children— Harmony blocked out her brother’s thoughts about romancing his “bride.”

  So I want to lick expensive champagne from my wife’s navel without worrying about the kids waking up. So what? Pax asked belligerently as he glowered at her.

  Harmony lifted her nose and looked away. She tossed back a “last word.” Just don’t count on me to take care of your friend, Mr. Ho Ho.

  Jonah Fargo has gotten to you. Pax’s last amused thought caused Harmony to level a dark glare at her brother.

  Then they sensed a third mental-chat-presence and turned to stare at Jonah. He was frowning as though something disturbed him. He glanced at Pax, then at Harmony, and his rapid thoughts flashed across hers. While Pax and Harmony transferred smoothly paced thoughts, Jonah’s were action packed: Mr. Ho Ho?

  Pax began to laugh outright, startling Janice who was snuggled against him. She worried if his painkillers were too high of a dosage.

  Shrimp was “girl-talking” with Pax’s German shepherd, Crystal. Shrimp envied Crystal’s feminine name and deeply, truly hated rock and roll; she loved western music, which was more cultural, in her opinion. She dreaded Jonah playing rock and roll music to her later that night while they stayed in a motel.

  Then Jimmy climbed up on Santa Claus’s lap and began chattering about raising rabbits with long, dangling ears. He’d seen them at the state fair. Jonah listened intently and agreed that Jimmy might get them in the spring, a Christmas raincheck. When Linda, a busy three-year-old, climbed on Santa’s other knee, Jonah gathered her close. Sissy, at four years old, wouldn’t be left behind and the tall broad-shouldered Santa Claus made room for her on his lap, too.

  The children giggled and exclaimed and scampered from Jonah’s lap as he gave them all another gift.

  Harmony breathed a relieved sigh. In a few moments, “Santa” would leave to deliver presents to other children and Jonah would “arrive,” eat dinner and do his western “git along.”

  If he just didn’t look so lonely at times. If only he didn’t think of his daughter and mourn for her each time Sissy tilted her head.

  Maybe he should stay with Pax’s family, while Harmony trudged back to her snug little cabin. If he weren’t in too much pain, Pax might be able to help Jonah sleep. He really needed the warmth of a family around him tonight. Music and leftover turkey sandwiches in a motel room just weren’t enough on Christmas Eve.

  “And what about you, little sweetheart?” Jonah-Santa was saying as he patted his knee.

  Harmony straightened, the bells on her wrist jingling merrily, mocking her, as she touched the cupid on her chest. “Me?”

  The children giggled and pulled her to her feet.

  Jonah had her. He’d tossed out his lasso and snared her while she was thinking how he needed sleep—

  “I’m a little old and a bit too large,” she said with a forced smile.

  “Never too old to sit on Santa’s lap,” Jonah stated with a deep “Ho-ho. You’ll fit just fine.”

  No one ever challenged her; Harmony devoted her life to being very careful and avoiding potential risks. Jonah’s eyes and his lap looked like huge “warning, danger zone” areas.

  Chicken. Jonah’s silent taunt slapped her.

  He’s right, Pax thought. Cluck... cluck.

  Harmony flashed a dark look at her brother. Lay off.

  But she allowed the children to take her to Jonah’s knee.

  Janice sighed dreamily. Such a beautiful couple.

  While holding her breath, Harmony’s expression sent Janice— who was a nonplayer in this mental game— a brief, but firm message: Jonah and I are not... will not be a “couple.” Ever.

  Then Jonah’s big hands were at her waist, shaping it, finding her softness and easing her firmly to his hard lap. Harmony sat very straight, bracing herself away from Jonah. His blue eyes darkened as he looked at her lips, then slowly down her body. He traced the cranberry sweater dress from curve to curve and down to the slit that revealed her knee. He liked her knees, she sensed and eased the dress hem over her legs.

  Jonah gathered her closer, despite her stealthy resistance.

  He blocked out her cupid bushwhacking threat; Harmony knew he was too busy thinking about how good she felt in his arms. Jonah wished the pillow weren’t strategically located because he really wanted her breasts against him.

  Harmony breathed slightly, taking care not to lift her chest against the pillow.

  Jonah’s big hand smoothed her waist and the gentle rise of her hip leisurely. His other hand crossed her thighs to draw her closer. His hand stayed open on her thigh, a warm, firm possession.

  Janice let out a dreamy “Ohhh...”

  Jonah’s eyes locked with Harmony’s and that warning lift of the hair on the nape of her neck began.

  Waves of his desire hit her, hot and fierce. She caught a scent of his aftershave: a lime base, and a headier scent that was his alone.

  His fingers tightened slightly. Harmony read his thoughts: Jonah wanted to pay her back for dropping those tantalizing little kisses on him. He considered her a real hit-and-run artist and she wasn’t running the next time she tried a move like that on him. Jonah mentally labeled her as a “dingy hit-and-run filly.”

  He thought she needed “reins put on her.” Then there was some obscure, damning remark about Lucky Halfpenny, the nice cowboy she’d met at the local Christmas party.

  Harmony frowned. She distinctly remembered Lucky’s appreciation for the cut of her dress. When she discarded his sensua
l thoughts, she found his excellent taste in clothing and his desire to become a fashion designer. Lucky loved women like a gourmet loved fine wine. One day he would find a lovely woman who understood him, and was just now in the sorting-through process.

  “Tell Santa what you want for Christmas,” Jonah was saying, holding Harmony firmly despite her latest attempt to gracefully rise to her feet.

  Without thinking, Harmony leaned close to his ear and whispered, “Let me go, you king-size western cut of beef. Listen, buckaroo... if you have a brain in your head, you’ll realize that if you behave now and let me go, I won’t entirely destroy you.”

  Jonah’s eyebrows shot up. The lines beside his eyes crinkled with laughter. She could feel it in him, tormenting her.

  “How?” he returned in a whisper.

  “How what?”

  “How are you going to destroy me?”

  She leaned back and studied Jonah’s cocky grin beneath the beard. She considered that in her past no one had challenged her wish to be free. She hadn’t really used her powers to the maximum levels, but Jonah was pushing her to her limits.

  While she was debating, Jonah acted suddenly. He stood up with her in his arms and walked to the hallway. While she dealt with being lifted easily and the flurry of excitement as the children leapt to follow them, Jonah said, “Have to go now. The other children are waiting.”

  He placed Harmony on her feet beneath the mistletoe ball and hurried out of the house.

  Then suddenly Pax needed the children to bring him another cup of cider and Janice hurried off to check the roasting turkey.

  Harmony stood beneath the mistletoe ball and shook, the result of fighting anger she would not allow to escape.

  Jonah was not making her angry. Or making her eat too much. She was just tired from getting her shop in working order and getting settled in the cabin. She could have a touch of flu and needed a soothing cup of herbal tea.

  But Jonah— alias Mr. Ho Ho— was not getting to her.

  When he returned any second now, she’d be firm, aloof, yet pleasant... keeping her Christmas cheer. With rules and a distance between them, she’d ask Jonah how she could repay him for saving her life.

  She didn’t like owing that big buckaroo anything.

  Then Janice was sweeping by her and opening the door to Jonah. He stepped into the hallway and walked straight to Harmony.

  “I’m glad you stayed put. Didn’t want to let my beard get in the way of this, little sweetheart,” he murmured with a wicked, boyish grin that captivated her.

  Pax and Janice were urging the children into the other room; Harmony was drawn against Jonah quickly, smoothly, firmly. The hallway light switched off; the shadows enclosed Jonah and her.

  Harmony had time to blink before Jonah’s lips settled down on hers.

  She was floating amid a soft stream of seeking, tender, warm, hungry kisses. His lips tempted the corners of her lips, the upper curve, soothing her lower lip. Harmony wasn’t certain what he wanted, but she moved closer to the fire she sensed within him; her arms slid upward to his shoulders, seeking the safety there as her world slanted, shifted, and the kisses changed. Or had she changed them?

  Jonah’s hand cupped the back of her head, moving her lips up to him while his other arm gathered her close... so close that his heat warmed her body… so close that with little effort, she could move into him…

  Jonah’s fingers were moving in her hair, gathering it, smoothing, caressing the strands. The span of his other hand slid along her back, molding her to him, urging her breasts against his body, following the shape of her back to her waist, then gently caressing the shape of her upper hip.

  So sweet... wooing... courting....

  The crisp texture of his hair delighted her fingertips, the nape of his neck strong, warm beneath her touch. Strength and heat lodged in the masculine contours of his cheeks, the line of his jaw.

  The first tentative taste of his tongue surprised her; Harmony caught him, drew him into her warmth, savoring him.

  Jonah breathed sharply, changing the angle of the kiss, deepening it, and gathering her closer. She stood on tiptoe now, reaching for him, keeping him close. She disregarded the tinkling of the tiny bells on her wrist and gave herself to the warmth Jonah was creating within her.

  One of them was shaking.

  They both were.

  Though her lids were closed, she saw the hallway’s chandelier crystals set off a myriad of brilliant, colored lights. The sparkling, shimmering beauty was pinging throughout her body and whirling around their heads. Or was it?

  Jonah’s hand slid lower, caressing her hips, shaping them, squeezing lightly.

  Harmony prowled through her reaction to his touch; she liked it. She loved the gentle claiming.

  Harmony dug her fingers into Jonah’s broad shoulders, enjoying the rippling cords, the padded muscles flexing as he moved against her.

  She dived into him. Wallowed in him. Traced each masculine curve against her softness. Jonah fit perfectly. His low, husky groan delighted Harmony. His hips and thighs gently eased against her, his hands cupping, gathering her bottom into his palms as he moved her close against him.

  Desire. Heat. Storms and the incredible hunger.

  Against her cheek, Jonah breathed unevenly. He began to tremble, his face hot against her throat as he stood very still, his body rigid.

  “You set me off,” he stated raggedly.

  Harmony blinked and swallowed, her body beginning to tremble as she realized that only Jonah’s strong arms kept her from pooling to the floor. She felt as though a match had lit her dynamite, too— at least lit her fuse, she corrected. The actual dynamite was still waiting, aching for ignition.

  “This is awful,” she whispered, not shielding her desperation.

  “Sure is,” he agreed, nuzzling her hair and kissing her temple. “You’ve got a little vein right there that is thumping a mile a minute.”

  “Buckaroo, get your nose out of my hair and your lips off my skin,” Harmony ordered shakily. Then she closed her eyes savoring the gentle caress of her breasts. Jonah’s long fingers squeezed gently, possessively, around her. Harmony realized that she was leaning against his hands and that she could step free at any time.

  She had laminated him against the hallway wall! She had pinned the cowboy to the wall with the thrust of her aching body... tethered him with her locked arms.

  Jonah leaned down to brush a kiss across her trembling lips, instantly soothing her jumbled emotions. Another sweet kiss and the slow, firm stroking of her back eased the awful aching of her body and her uncertainty.

  Jonah was thinking that she was a strong woman and she would give as good as she got. She stood very still, concentrating on Jonah’s thoughts until he frowned as if something disturbed him. He looked down at her warily.

  “Don’t be wearing any low-cut dresses around Lucky Halfpenny… unless you want to be cooking his breakfast the next morning. He’s fast,” Jonah stated ominously, his fingertips cruising across her nipples to the outer perimeter of her breasts and then down to lock on the curve of her waist.

  “And you’re not?” Her fingers tightened into the taut muscles of his arms. Whatever had happened, whatever whirlwind had caught her and flung her intentions aside, her body and heart told her she wasn’t finished with riding the tempest or Jonah.

  The wrinkles beside Jonah’s dark blue eyes deepened. “Never have been with ladies. If I were in the mood to buy, I’d circle the herd and pick a nice safe little lady without flaky ideas.”

  He eased Harmony gently away and smoothed her hair. “You might want to step into the powder room and do something about those lips. You’re wearing my brand,” he whispered huskily before walking away from her.

  Harmony stared after Jonah. She watched the arrogant tilt of his head, his broad shoulders tapering down to those lean hips and long legs doing their lanky cowboy-swagger thing toward the dinner table. She wanted to leap after him, tear into him and “b
ulldog”— bear him to the floor. She wanted to mind-fog him with what he could do with himself— like kiss a buffalo.

  “‘Wearing my brand’,” she muttered. “‘Circle the herd... flaky ideas.’”

  Jonah was not dictating her next actions. She had plans of her own: like the wall behind her back. She needed to lean on it to keep from crumbling to the hallway carpeting.

  She glanced up, damning the gaily-decorated mistletoe ball and whatever Christmas cheer left her susceptible to Jonah and his kisses.

  ~**~

  Chapter Five

  “Summoning Jonah here just proves his ‘dingbat heifer’ theory.��

  Alone in her kitchen, Harmony stirred the spaghetti sauce, and studied the swirling green pepper, onions and herbs. She smoothed her loose sweater and flowing slacks, her best “burglar black” outfit. She always wore it when she was locked into a plan, and with Jonah’s unpredictability, she needed every bit of good luck available. She sniffed the aromatic delicious scents and wished she would learn to mind her own business.

  The first week of the New Year was a perfect time to observe her resolutions, keeping to the streamlined design she had chosen for her life. She’d circled her jumbled emotions: There was no reason for Jonah’s kiss under the mistletoe ball to stir her. None at all. She’d placed her reaction to his kisses in neat boxes, reasoning out the upsetting Jonah events in her life. She’d been weak and woozy after those kisses because she’d been grabbed unexpectedly and because her breath had been whisked away.

  Lack of oxygen would make any woman’s head spin and her knees weak.

  Now, she was ready for Jonah. “I’ve never thrown my thoughts into the wind to summon anyone before. It might not work and then I won’t have to worry about Jonah. For today, anyway.”

  She owed Jonah a huge debt for saving her life in that blizzard. Of course, Pax loved to underline that point repeatedly, and her honor decreed that she couldn’t owe Jonah and watch him suffer. Nor would she be the victim of Pax’s tormenting. She’d help ease Jonah into the reality that he possessed certain powers and that they were becoming stronger, despite his resistance. Once he realized his abilities, she’d be free of all obligations.