Also one for Jezebel, who could not get kissing Kit James off her mind.
Easing a cookie off the baking tray, she carried it behind her back into the parlor. A good night’s sleep had done wonders for her toe, but she still limped a bit.
“I have to say, Kit, it looks like you’re painting yourself as much as the walls.”
He set the paintbrush aside then rose from a stoop to gaze down at her.
“Well, ma’am, I’m a mite better at rustling cattle and mending fences.” His gaze settled on her lips before it lifted to her eyes. The smile he shot her lifted one corner of his mouth, crinkled the corners of his eyes. “I smell a bit of heaven coming from the kitchen.”
“I was wondering if you might want another bite? I mean—” she whipped the cookie from behind her “—a first bite, since you haven’t had one yet.”
He lifted his fingers, which were coated in white paint, and wagged them at her. “Put the head of that gingerbread man in my mouth.”
She lifted the cookie to his mouth, her fingertip somehow—accidentally—touching his bottom lip in the process.
“Yum,” he mumbled, holding his dripping hands wide. “I reckon I’ll take that second bite now, Livy.”
She lifted the cookie, but he shook his head.
“Step closer, honey.”
As if she had anything else in mind. As if she were anything more than a magnet being drawn to an attracting force.
His chest was warm, manly and solid against the front of her apron, against the imprudent yet eager thump of her heart.
He touched her face when he lowered his mouth to hers. Vaguely, she was aware of a cool smear of paint grazing her cheek.
Life did exist beyond the warm probe of his mouth, beyond the masculine scent that wrapped her up, but for now she chose to ignore it.
There was life beyond this, beyond Kit, who would soon be leaving.
Still, for this one, exquisite moment she would pretend that this was all there was.
* * *
“It’s beau-u-u-tiful, Uncle Kit!” Emmie declared while she squirmed in the crook of his arm. “I loves Christmas trees so much.”
It was clear that each and every citizen of Sweet Bank was enamored of the huge tree. Tonight, a couple hundred candles mounted on fancy tin trays had been clipped to the branches. Bright pinpricks of flame made it look like the tree had drifted down from the star-studded sky.
“I’ve never seen anything so pretty, darlin’,” he said but he was looking at Livy’s face when he said it. She glowed prettier than the candles did.
“Can my papa see it from Kevin?”
Suddenly his attention was only for Emmie. “Why, darlin’, I believe he’s right here beside us and is enjoying the tree the same as we are. You know, your papa, he wants you to have a happy Christmas, he wants you to eat cookies and candy and open lots of presents.”
Sam looked away from the tree with a grin. “I’ll eat lots of candy if it will make my ma and pa happy.”
Livy yanked the brim of her brother’s hat over his eyes. “A sensible amount of candy will make them happier.”
“We gonna eats lots of cookies, then,” Emmie declared with a great big grin at Sam.
Kit was about to laugh out loud and agree that they should all eat lots of candy and cookies when the minister stood on a box to lead everyone in singing “O Tannenbaum.”
Since Livy had already taken note that his voice sounded polished he decided not to sing. Although, he wanted to. Caroling was one of his favorite things to do.
His acting troupe always entertained children in orphanages this time of year. He missed doing that.
While everyone sang, he watched their faces. After a moment he turned his attention to the tree and the pretty points of flame, reaching and twisting.
Sure did look nice, but lit candles and trees didn’t go well together in his opinion. A lot of fires happened this way.
Even so, he couldn’t deny that, like everyone else, he enjoyed looking at it. It was a rare sight with the tree all a-sparkle, and overhead the night sky a miracle of bright twinkling stars. It took the breath right out of him.
Chances were, this tree would be safe enough, since the candles would be put out after folks gathered in the bakery for hot drinks and Livy gave her reading. Also, Hank Runne and Dr. Baily were standing by with buckets of water and sand in case of an emergency.
When “O Tannenbaum” ended, the preacher led them in “O Come, O Come Emmanuel.”
There was not a chance in a million that he would be able to keep quiet through this carol.
He began to hum. Livy glanced over at him with a smile. If she thought he ought to be on the stage, her expression didn’t show it.
Closing his eyes, he hummed, wondering if there was some way to convince Livy to let him stay on after the house was finished.
Something was happening between them. Something tender and wonderful.
Damned if he wanted to leave before he knew if it might be something lasting.
* * *
The kissing had to stop! Kissing in the morning, at noon, all night long. It was distracting. How was Livy to get a thing done when Kit’s lips never left hers?
Very well, there had only been the two kisses, but in her mind they were constant. It didn’t matter that Kit was in the barn tending the horses and the cow they had borrowed last night, or that she was in the kitchen frying potatoes—his mouth was on hers.
Even if he was hanging fancy curtains on the windows, like he was doing now, it felt like he had his hands on places they should not be.
Something was burning. She stirred a pot of beans without really seeing it and drew her sleeve across her forehead. She certainly was warm. Thinking of Kit had her all fired up. Made her imagine that she was steaming.
No, not her. There really was smoke in here!
She grabbed a cloth, then opened the oven door and drew out a dozen charred biscuits.
From behind her she heard laughter.
“I don’t know what’s so funny,” she huffed. Dinner without biscuits was not dinner at all. “It will take a week to get the stench out of the house. What will Edwina think?”
Kit set aside the curtain and placed it on the back of a chair. He crossed the room.
Gallantly, in her opinion, he plucked a biscuit from the baking sheet and took a bite, chewed and swallowed.
“Not bad. I could eat two.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. He had no idea what had caused her to ruin the biscuits. How it had been her burning as much as the unfortunate dough.
“Even if you do, it won’t get rid of the stench,” she pointed out because smoke was miserable to get out of things. “Edwina will think I’m a bumbler.”
He shrugged, touched her cheek then traced his thumb along the line of her jaw. “Does it really matter what she thinks?”
“It matters to me.” But not as much as the fact that Kit was going to kiss her again. She should not let him. It was not prudent. Not a bit wise.
He closed his eyes, shook his head slightly.
“I know how to get the stench out.” He dropped his hand and backed away. “Just give me a minute.”
With that, he spun about and walked down the hallway and into his bedroom.
Clearly, he was running away from the attraction growing between them, just as she ought to be.
Just this one time she was not going to do what she ought to do. She had years to be prudent but only another week to kiss Kit.
The children and the puppies were upstairs napping. There was nothing to keep her from following him down the hallway. No one would know if she quietly slipped inside his bedroom, stole a kiss and made a memory.
Of all the things she expected to see when she ope
ned the door, it was not Kit sitting in a chair beside the window reading a book!
She had assumed he would be pacing, fighting the intimacy building between them, not absorbed in some story.
“Livy!” He slammed the book closed, shoved it behind his back then stood up.
“I didn’t realize you were such a literary man, Kit.” Well, clearly he must be to dash away like he had.
“There’s nothing like a good tale.”
“Um, there’s also nothing like earning your wages.”
“You’re right. I’ll get right back to it.”
He would, but first she needed to know what was more interesting to him than their abandoned kiss.
“What are you reading?”
“Dime-novel trash.”
“I adore dime-novel trash.” She reached behind him intent on seeing what it was.
Blame it! All she managed was to knock it from his hand. It landed facedown on the floor. He reached for it but she was quicker.
Snatching it up she turned it over. “The Common Man’s Guide to Ranching?” She looked at him in bewildered astonishment.
He audibly swallowed. “I reckon there’s something I need to confess.”
Confessions were never what one wanted to hear.
Chapter Six
She closed her eyes, praying that he was not going to reveal something horrid.
He took the book from her fist and slapped it behind him on the table. “What’s in these pages is all I know of ranching. That and what little bit Cody Billings knows.”
“And who is Cody Billings?” This was an odd confession.
“Howdy, ma’am.” He lifted her hand, kissed her knuckles. His voice suddenly sounded odd, smooth and seductive, given the conversation they were engaged in. “Mighty pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“I don’t understand.” What exactly was the man confessing to? “Your name is really Cody Billings?”
All right. That alone was not unforgivable. Sometimes good-hearted folks needed a clean start.
“He’s a character that I’ve played.” He gazed at his boots for a moment, then looked into her eyes. “I’m—well, the truth is, I’m not a ranch hand. I’m an actor.”
“I don’t believe it!” She did not want to believe it. The man she’d hired was a well-qualified ramrod.
Extending his hands, he turned them this way and that. How hadn’t she noticed they were not calloused? The only marks on them were blisters; red and angry and painful looking.
“You kissed me,” she hissed. “You cannot be an actor!”
“I’m sorry, Livy. I thought I could play this part like I’ve done every other part, live it and make it real.”
“You kissed me and lied?” What was she to do now? It was far too late to hire someone else, to forget what her heart had discovered. And Edwina would be here in only a week. “Why would you do that?”
“For Emmie. I couldn’t continue on as an actor and properly raise a child.”
“It seems to me that you have continued acting,” she pointed out waspishly.
“I have. I’m not proud of it, but it’s the truth.” His lips creased together in a firm, grim line. He narrowed his eyes at her. “You can’t deny doing the same. Didn’t you hire me for the very purpose of deceiving your cousin?”
“That’s different—”
Then again, it wasn’t all that different when she looked at it. Her intent was to blatantly deceive her cousin. She had even involved the whole town in the masquerade.
She’d involved Kit as well by misrepresenting what his duties would be. Led him to believe this job was of a lasting nature. Heaven only knew how much time he had spent learning to be a genuine cowboy.
Surely not as long as she had spent misrepresenting herself to Edwina!
“You’ll have to leave,” she stated, wondering if she sounded as much a hypocrite as she felt.
Unable to look in his eyes a second longer, she fled the room for the sanctuary of the parlor. But there was no sanctuary to be found. Kit followed her so closely that she could nearly smell him, feel the heat radiating from him.
All of a sudden the wind started to blow. It moaned under the eaves, sounding gloomy. That was appropriate background music for what was going on here.
A strand of brown hair dipped below his brow when he shook his head. He stepped several inches closer, not farther away.
“Here’s the truth, Livy.”
She backed toward the front door, ready to throw it open and firmly point the way to the barn.
“I deceived you, and you deceived me.”
“I still want you gone.” He followed—no, seductively stalked her was what he did, until her rump bumped the door.
“That’s not what your eyes are telling me.”
She closed them because she knew exactly what her eyes were saying, drat them.
Then she felt a touch, the barest pressure of his thumb tracing the shape of her pout.
“If I say there’s nothing between us, that’ll be one more lie.” He was so close that she felt the rush of his breath on her cheek.
She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her mouth. Once again, something was burning. She’d be a fool to think it was beans or biscuits.
“I won’t lie again,” he whispered. His hand slid up her spine. His fingers tickled her neck then cupped the back of her head. “Will you?”
“No.” It was one thing to deceive her cousin but quite another to deceive herself. There was something growing between her and Kit. She was not going to spend the rest of her life wondering what it might have been.
His lips came down upon hers, a gentle, affectionate kiss. With one arm circling her back, he lifted her. The sensuous upward glide pressed her breasts against his chest. She felt his heart slam against his ribs and wanted to feel so much more of him than that.
What she wanted was to ease this heat—to strip off her clothes and feel his skin against hers. It was wicked—given that he would be leaving soon and that the children were sleeping nearby—but she wanted this beyond what was reasonable. In this, her body and her emotions were speaking more loudly than good common sense.
All at once an icy blast of wind blew inside the parlor.
She hadn’t opened the door. It must have been Kit; he was going to carry her away to the barn, lay her down in the hay and—
“Olivia Grace York!”
No! No! No! It could not be!
“Who is that man?”
Chapter Seven
“Edwina!”
Livy shoved out of Kit’s embrace, making a sound halfway between a squeak and a gasp.
The woman standing in the doorway scowled at him while pressing her fingers over the eyes of a small boy huddled against her skirt.
Down in the yard, Hank Runne hopped down from a wagon piled sky-high with trunks. The glare the liveryman shot him was deserved.
The way he had been kissing Livy—the places his fingers had been inching toward... His behavior had been far from respectful.
“I ask you again, Olivia Grace.” Edwina pinned Livy with an accusing stare. “Who is that man?”
Livy resembled a stone pillar, silent, her expression frozen.
“I’m Kitson James, Mrs. Spire.” He indicated with a wave of his hand that she and her son should come in out of the cold. “Your cousin’s husband.”
Livy snapped her openmouthed stare to him. Two shocks in the space of thirty seconds; no wonder she couldn’t speak.
“Welcome to our home,” he said.
At least Edwina was no longer scowling. In fact, she looked downright pleased.
Too bad the same could not be said of Livy.
“You must be the banker�
�s son!” Edwina stepped inside, steering her child before her with her hand clamped on his shoulder. “My goodness, Livy. This is a surprise.”
“Yes.” Livy cut him a razor-edged glance. It stung. “Yes, it is.”
He smiled. “I’m the banker now. My father retired and I took his place at the helm. It’s quite a pleasure to meet you, Cousin Edwina. I’ve been looking forward to it immensely.”
Glancing past Edwina’s shoulder, he spotted Hank standing in the snow, his face growing red and angry looking.
Feeling a tug on his pant leg, Kit glanced down. The boy gazed up at him through a pair of black-rimmed spectacles.
“Do you have fans?” the boy asked, then turned the question to Livy with a lift of his eyebrows.
Kit doubted she noticed the boy, given that her whole attention was focused upon her alleged husband. In spite of the moment they had shared only a moment ago, a life-changing moment in his opinion, she gazed at him as if he was a stranger.
Hell, in a way he was. Until a few moments ago she had believed him to be a hardworking cowboy.
“Bradley Spire!” Edwina bent over to whisper in her son’s ear. Her voice carried anyway. “Remember what I told you. Only people of means have electric fans. Now, mind your manners.”
“We have means—not nice?” The boy glanced again at Livy. “We have fans—and we are nice.”
“We have puppies,” Livy said. All of a sudden color flooded her cheeks.
Coming as quick as it did, he figured the blush had to do with temper. He could only believe she was hopping mad at him.
Still, when she turned to face Edwina, it was with a smile.
“Isn’t this a treat!” Livy folded her cousin in a great hug. Kit thought he saw moisture in Edwina’s eyes, but she squeezed them shut before he could be certain. “You’re early!”
“Isn’t it wonderful? There was so much happening back home, all the hustle and bustle, the social calls—well, it was making me dizzy. So many people coming and going, I was near to screaming. Unfortunately, your little hotel in town was booked, and naturally I wouldn’t stay at a boardinghouse, so here I am!”
Western Christmas Brides Page 23