He couldn’t believe he’d actually felt sorry for her and felt like kissing that mouth.
Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he removed her finger from his chest. “Lady, you might not give a damn about this town, but I do. And from where I’m standing, you’ve done a pretty good job destroying both it and the holiday. Did you give any thought to holding off delivering the death blow until after Christmas?”
She gave him an offended look. “I did not destroy your town or the holiday. And it wasn’t—”
“Really? It’s a little less than a month before Christmas, and with your slick report and its fancy charts and statistics, you’ve stolen this town’s hope for the future. So you tell me, what kind of holiday are we going to have with that hanging over our heads?” He grabbed the first aid kit and started to walk away before he gave in to the urge to shake her.
“Hey, this is not my fault. I had no choice but to—”
He turned to look at her. “Yeah, try telling that to the folks waiting for you in the town hall. You’re real good with numbers, Ms. Lane. Let’s see how you do when you have to look those people in the eye and explain—”
She scowled at him. “I’m not going to explain anything to anyone. I’m not going to stick around so a bunch of small-minded bullies can make me their punching bag. I’ve already suffered a broken nose because of—”
“Your nose isn’t broken, and your mouth looks a hell of a lot better than it did in that stick-up-your-ass picture of you in the paper.”
Her jaw dropped. She made a furious noise in her throat, slammed the door, and revved the engine.
Gage lurched forward at the same time as the SUV. He wrenched the door open. “What the hell are you thinking?” he said, leaning across her to grab the key from the ignition. He jabbed his finger at the wooden Santa. “He could’ve come through the windshield, and you would’ve had a lot more to worry about than a sore nose and swollen mouth.”
She’d gone pale, her bottom lip quivering. “I-I thought I had it in reverse.”
“Don’t even think about crying.”
She sniffed.
No way was he going to feel sorry for her. “I mean it. You brought this on yourself. Now come on.” He moved to take hold of her arm.
She jerked away. “I’m not going anywhere, especially with you. I don’t like you, Sheriff McBride.”
“Good, since I’m not particularly fond of you either, Ms. Lane. Now, there are about two hundred people who have spent the last hour waiting for you. You owe them the courtesy of at least showing up.”
She leaned back against the headrest and shook her head. “I have a headache, and my nose hurts.”
Gage hardened his heart. After all, she wasn’t really hurt. “Too bad. You should’ve thought about that before you decided to run over Santa.”
“Give me my keys,” she demanded through clenched teeth.
Screw it. The citizens of Christmas deserved some answers. He hauled her from the SUV.
“Sorry, Ms. Grinch, but you’re coming with me.”
Chapter Three
Madison’s shocked gaze went from the big hand clamped on her wrist to the broad leather-clad shoulders of the Neanderthal who dragged her through the snow behind him. She tried to wrench her hand free. “I am so going to sue you,” she said when he tightened his grip.
Just her luck, the reporters weren’t there to witness the brutality of Christmas’s finest. And to think a few moments ago, when she’d gotten a good look at her rescuer with his dark, wind-tousled hair and winter-green eyes, she’d thought him very fine indeed. Combined with his strong, masculine jaw and the shallow dent in his chin, he’d looked as though he’d stepped off a billboard and for a couple of seconds, she wouldn’t have minded if he’d walked off with her.
Until he opened his damn mouth.
He stopped abruptly and turned. She bumped into his unyielding, six-foot-plus frame. Wrapping his hands around her upper arms, he brought his face within inches of hers.
“I’m going to make you a deal, Ms. Lane. You’re going to go into that town hall meeting and pretend like you have a heart, like you care what your decision has cost these people—”
“You jerk. Of course I have a—”
He placed a finger lightly on her mouth, cutting off her protest. His inflexible gaze dropping to her lips, he lowered his hand. “Keep quiet until I’m finished.”
She pried his fingers from her arm. “Maybe the women around here put up with your manhandling and bully tactics, but I won’t.”
His gaze narrowed. “If you want to get out of here today, you’ll keep your Kewpie-doll lips closed and listen to me.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t believe you just—”
Ignoring her, which he seemed to have a talent for, he said, “You’re going to figure out a way to make the citizens of Christmas feel as though the best thing that could’ve happened to them is that this deal fell through. And since you’re supposed to be so damn smart, it should be easy for you.”
“For your information, that is exactly what I plan on doing.”
He cocked a dark brow. “Really? Yet not two minutes ago you told me you weren’t going to the meeting.”
“So sue me. I was mad, and you made me madder. I just want to get this over with.”
He studied her for a long moment then nodded. “You and me both. I’ll take you into town and call a tow truck for your SUV. There doesn’t appear to be much damage.” He scrutinized the vehicle before returning his attention to her. “Do you need anything out of it for the meeting?”
“Yes, my purse, briefcase, and portfolio.”
He nodded then placed a hand at her elbow, guiding her toward his Suburban—a white Suburban with a picture of Santa on the door. Following the direction of her gaze, he said in a smartass tone of voice, “I hope he won’t give you nightmares.”
“He won’t, but you will.”
Dammit. Why had she said that? She blew out an exasperated breath, placed her foot on the running board, and heaved herself onto the black leather seat.
He stood in the open door, hands planted on the roof of the Suburban. “I’ve never had a woman tell me I gave her nightmares before, but plenty have told me I played a prominent role in their dreams.”
Her gaze drifted up his lean, muscled body to his gorgeous face. She struggled to put a look of derision on hers. “Seriously? I can’t imagine why.”
The corner of his mouth curved.
Her head was beginning to pound, and she sank into the soft leather, closing her eyes.
“Ray, bring me the first aid kit. It should be to the left of your feet.”
Madison opened one eye and caught the sheriff studying her before he met his deputy, who handed him the first aid kit. After a brief conversation, McBride returned to her side. He fiddled with the lever at the base of her seat while keeping one hand on the headrest, carefully easing her into a more comfortable position. Withdrawing a bottle of water from the backseat, he twisted off the cap and handed it to her.
Instead of taking a drink, she gently pressed the cold plastic to her throbbing lips.
“Here.” He drew her hand from the bottle, placing two white pills in her palm.
She eyed them suspiciously. “I won’t be much use to you if I’m dead.”
His gaze glinted with what appeared to be amusement. “They’re ibuprofen.”
Popping the pills in her mouth, she took a deep swallow of the water. “Thanks, but don’t think I’m going to forgive you now that you’re being nice.”
“Just doing my job, Ms. Lane,” he said, as he closed her door. Retrieving her things from the deputy, McBride circled the Suburban. He opened the driver-side door, handing Madison her purse before tossing her briefcase and portfolio in the back.
As he slid behind the wheel, she removed the pins from what was left of the knot at her nape. She retrieved a brush from her purse to set her hair to rights.
“Put your belt on,” he sa
id, as he checked over his shoulder.
She did as he asked, then drew the brush through her tangled hair. She felt the weight of his gaze upon her and tried to ignore the heated flutter in the pit of her stomach. For some reason, sitting in the close confines of a vehicle with his large body brushing up against hers felt intimate.
It was all Vivi and Hot Bod’s fault. Her friend’s recent hook-up had Madison thinking about how long it had been since a man had his hands on her, big hands with long, broad fingers. Hands like Sheriff McBride’s.
She gave her hair a sharp tug to change the direction of her thoughts. Gathering it in a low ponytail, she twisted it into a knot and stuck the pins back in.
“Why would you do that?” he asked, his tone gruff.
She shifted, turning to stare at him, but he’d returned his gaze to the road. “Are you asking why I put my hair in a bun?”
He grunted. “Yeah.”
That had to be the oddest question a man had ever asked her.
“Because it looks professional.” Pulling down the visor to ensure that it did, she caught sight of her lips and groaned. The cold water hadn’t made a difference.
He shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re getting so worked up about. Only thing people around here care about is what’s coming out of your mouth, not what it looks like.”
She pushed the visor up. “You haven’t spent a lot of time in small towns, Sheriff McBride, if you think this”—she circled her face with a finger—“isn’t going to garner comments and speculation.”
Her stomach heaved at the thought. The torment she’d been put through as a kid came back to taunt her. God, she hated small towns. She closed her eyes and took a calming breath.
“I’ve lived here all my life, Ms. Lane,” he replied. “Like my father and his father before him. So I do know what I’m talking about.”
For some reason, the fact he was a small-town boy disappointed her. It shouldn’t have. It wasn’t like she was going to see him again after today, as if she even wanted to, no matter how gorgeous he was. But it bothered her to think he was like the people she’d grown up with.
They drove past a row of quaint shops with swags of garland hung over gaily painted doors. Antique streetlamps festooned with wreaths and bright red bows lined the snow-dusted sidewalk. A cheerful, welcoming street in a town that thought she’d destroyed it. She sighed. She wanted to put the town of Christmas and the memories it was stirring up far behind her.
She cleared the emotion from her throat. “Are we almost there?”
“Yeah, next street over.” His observant eyes roamed her face. “Look, why don’t I call the mayor? He can reschedule the meeting until tomorrow. You can take a room and get a good night’s sleep.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the thought, but I’m booked on a red-eye out of Denver tonight.” He stiffened beside her. His reaction surprised her. She didn’t think that she’d sounded ungrateful.
“I really do appreciate the offer…” Following his gaze, she groaned when she spotted the reporters crowded on the sidewalk outside a two-story wood building.
“I’ll take you around the back.”
She carefully slipped her sunglasses on. “No, let’s just get this over with.”
He slanted her a look then shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Bringing the Suburban to a stop, he unsnapped his seat belt. “Don’t get out until I come around to your side.”
As oddly attractive as his protective manner was, she didn’t want him to think she was a wimp. “I can handle the press, Sheriff McBride.”
“Just do as I say, Ms. Lane. There’s going to be a lot of pushing and shoving to get at you. Your face doesn’t need to take another hit.” Muttering something about stubborn women under his breath, he pulled her briefcase and portfolio from the backseat. Closing the door, he came around to her side.
A female deputy with chin-length brown hair shouldered her way to Madison’s other side.
“Glad you finally made it, Sheriff,” the woman said. “Crowd inside is getting about as restless as this bunch.”
“Just what I wanted to hear,” Sheriff McBride said, as he expertly maneuvered Madison through the reporters shouting their questions. He held the door open with one hand while nudging her inside with the other. “Ray should be by in a couple of minutes to give you a hand, Jill.”
With a brisk nod and a resentful look in Madison’s direction, the woman took up her position in front of the doors.
“Real friendly deputy you have there, Sheriff,” Madison said, stepping away from him.
“Jill works for me part-time while helping out her sister-in-law at the bakery. Her brother’s MIA in Afghanistan. They’re going through a tough time. Your decision to torpedo the resort just made it a whole lot tougher.”
She shoved her sunglasses on top of her head. “If you’re trying to make me feel guilty, it won’t work.” But it did, and she resented him for that. It wasn’t like she’d taken pleasure in killing the deal. It wasn’t personal. Why couldn’t they understand that?
A man who’d been speaking to a group of people just inside the doors broke away and walked toward her. With his tawny blond hair and tailored charcoal-black suit, he looked like he’d be more at home in the big city than in this sleepy little Colorado town.
“Welcome to Christmas, Ms. Lane. I’m Ethan O’Connor, the mayor.” His movie-star smile dimmed when his gaze dropped to her mouth, but he quickly recovered and motioned to her portfolio and briefcase. “Why don’t I take these for you?”
“Thank you,” she said, catching a glimpse inside the packed room. Her fingers tightened reflexively around the handles of her portfolio. The hall had gone silent as one by one heads turned in their direction. She knew she’d be facing a tough crowd, but she hadn’t been prepared for the rabid hostility she saw in their eyes. She was suddenly glad of the protective presence of the intimidating male at her back.
“I’ve got them,” McBride said from behind her, relieving her of her bags before she could protest.
Mayor O’Connor raised a brow. His eyes flicked from her to the sheriff, a slight smile curving his lips.
What was that about?
Madison mentally shrugged, then followed the mayor into the hall. The whispers and snickers and neighbors nudging one another as she walked into the room felt all too familiar. Her stomach cramped and her chest tightened. It felt like someone was holding a pillow over her face. They were the same nervous reactions she’d suffered for months after the accident that had claimed the life of her mother and the man she’d been having an affair with—a man from a prominent and well-respected family.
Unlike hers.
In the beginning, the town’s anger hadn’t been confined to whispers and snickers like that of the citizens of Christmas. The townspeople had been aggressive in their condemnation, and friends of the dead man’s children had made life miserable for Madison. They never let her forget who she was and where she’d come from.
She stiffened her spine as she walked to the front of the room. She wasn’t that shamed little girl anymore, and she’d be damned if she’d let the people of Christmas make her feel like she was.
“Put Ms. Lane’s things over here, Gage.” The mayor indicated an empty chair at the end of the long wooden table where four men and a woman sat. “Ms. Lane, I can take your coat for you,” he offered, stepping toward her.
She handed him her coat. “I’ll set up my charts while you go ahead with the introduction, Mr. O’Connor.”
The mayor smothered a cough, which sounded suspiciously like a laugh, with his hand. “I think it’s safe to say, Ms. Lane, you don’t need any introduction. The floor’s yours.”
A moment or two to prepare herself would’ve been nice. It wasn’t like she hadn’t given a speech before—she had, numerous times—but not to a crowd who considered her the enemy.
Madison took her place behind the podium. Wrestling the microphone into position, she opened her mouth to address the re
sidents of Christmas.
“Would you get a load of those lips,” an older woman in the front row said in an overloud whisper. She looked like everyone’s ideal of the perfect grandmother, if you discounted the flaming red streak in her softly curled white hair. Her red sweater sported Rudolph, his nose blinking on and off. Flashing candy cane earrings dangled from her ears, casting her lined face in a pink glow.
Self-consciously, Madison’s hand went to her mouth. “I—” she began.
“What was that you said, Nell?” An older man, wearing a red plaid shirt, angled his whiskered chin at the woman beside him.
No way was Madison going to give this Nell person a chance to repeat her embarrassing comment. “Hello. I’m Madison Lane. I’ve been asked—”
“Turn your hearing aid up, Ted. I said, get a load of those lips.”
“Nell.” The sheriff’s deep voice interrupted the low snorts of laughter. From where he sat against the wall, he glowered at the woman.
The old lady shrugged. “I’m just sayin’.”
Madison cleared her throat, determined not to let the woman get to her. “Mr. Hartwell thought it would be helpful for y’all to see the process behind our decision.” Dammit, when she got nervous, the Southern drawl she’d worked so hard to get rid of leaked out. She cleared her throat again.
“Ethan, for pity’s sake, give the girl a glass of water,” said the woman who was fast becoming Madison’s least favorite person in the room.
The mayor half-rose from his chair, hand poised over the plastic pitcher. “Ms. Lane?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m good. Thank you. As I was saying—”
“Just get to the point, girlie. Why the Sam Hill did Hartwell renege on our deal? That nice young man Harrison told us it was as good as done.”
Madison didn’t know who she wanted to strangle more, the old lady or the Snake. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name…”
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