Her Mistletoe Husband

by Renee Roszel

  With a nod, Elissa was out the door like a shot.

  She wasn’t dressed for making snow angels, so she sat on the back stoop, watching the girls as they romped and squealed and tumbled. A click at Elissa’s back told her the door was being opened. “Now, Helen,” she said, without turning, “I am perfectly capable—”

  “Of avoiding me,” Alex finished for her. “I know.”

  Elissa twisted around to scowl at him, a most unwelcome surprise. Nevertheless, her heart took a foolish leap. “What do you want?”

  He held up her boots. “Helen thought you might want these.” He scanned her loafered feet, where she’d cleared a spot in the snow for them. “It’s a little cold out here for those shoes.”

  If he were anyone else on earth, she might admit that her toes were grateful for the boots, but since he wasn’t anyone else on earth, she turned her back on him.

  Much to her regret, in a few seconds, he was sitting on the step beside her. “Here.”

  The boots thudded into the snow near her feet.

  When he said nothing else, she glanced his way. He was watching the twins, his expression somber.

  “What’s the matter, don’t you think they’re the most darling girls in the world?” She experienced a rush of petulance. His plan might be to ruin her, but he’d better not find fault with her nieces. That was unthinkable.

  He shifted, snagging her gaze. “You’re afraid for them, aren’t you?” He indicated the twins with a nod. “You think the letter writer might hurt them.”

  He took up so much space on the stoop, she didn’t have a choice but to allow his arm to brush hers. Deciding she didn’t need his touch—even coat to coat she yanked on the snow boots and bolted up. “I’m not afraid, just cautious.”

  He stood, too. His long lashes made a narrow frame around silver eyes. “You’re expecting them to be kidnapped—or worse.”

  Hiding her fear and her absurd attraction to him, she spat, “Let’s just say that by your interference into my life, I’ve discovered how unpredictable and brutal Fate can be.” She waved toward Gilly and Glory. “Those babies are precious to me. If I want to be overprotective, it’s my business.”

  “You’re a lousy liar, Miss Crosby.”

  She shot him a deadly look. “Your opinion doesn’t interest me, Mr. D’Amour.”

  A shrill cry rang through the frosty air, and black dread filled Elissa’s soul. She scanned the backyard and saw only Gilly. “Glory!” she cried, and ran toward the sound as a second cry filled the air.

  Rounding the side of the house, Elissa saw her niece stumbling through the snow toward the fence.

  “Glory!” she called, catching up to her niece. “Are you okay?” Lifting Glory into her arms, she cried, “What happened?”

  Glory’s cheeks were pink from exertion and cold, her face animated. She flailed little mittened hands toward the forest. “Bunny! Bunny! I want bunny!”

  “She was chasing a rabbit,” Alex said, relief evident in his voice.

  Elissa saw tracks in the snow and knew it was true. Inhaling to slow her racing heart, she hugged her niece to her. “Did you see a bunny, sweetie?”

  Glory nodded, her cool cheek like velvet against Elissa’s jaw. “Can I have bunny, Auntie Lis? Can I?”

  Elissa lowered the twin to the snow. “It’s a wild bunny, Glory. You wouldn’t want to take it away from its family, would you?”

  Glory’s forehead puckered. “Fam’y?”

  Elissa managed a smile. Apparently her niece had never thought of animals as having families. No doubt that was because Helen had rescued so many little creatures, Glory thought all animals wanted to live in houses.

  Elissa squatted down so that she was eye level with the toddler. Lovingly she smoothed a dark curl under her red hood. “Now go play. The bunny’s gone home.”

  Glory scampered off to join her sister in a fresh area that needed little snow angels. Elissa watched as she spread her pudgy arms and plopped onto her back in the snow, scooting her legs in and out as she moved her arms up and down.

  Weakness invaded Elissa’s limbs. She didn’t know if it was relief or delayed reaction to her fear. All she knew for sure was that, all of a sudden, her troubles of the past two weeks had become too much to bear, and a sob issued up from her throat.

  Trying to hide her emotions from the ever-vigilant Mr. D’Amour, she spun toward the woods where the rabbit had vanished. Rummaging in her coat pocket for a handkerchief, she managed to swallow a second sob, but couldn’t staunch her tears.

  She heard Alex’s muffled curse and knew he hadn’t missed her anguish. Before she could react, he was standing before her, his hand extended, holding a neatly folded handkerchief. “Dammit, Elissa. You have to tell your family. You can’t run an inn, worry about being murdered and play watchdog for your nieces. There aren’t enough hours in the day. You’ll go crazy.”

  She yanked a wrinkled handkerchief out of her coat pocket, ignoring his overture. “Go away.” She blew her nose, loudly, even if it wasn’t ladylike. Darn him for being there, anyway! Swabbing her eyes, she jammed the handkerchief back into her pocket, feeling more in control. “If you’ll recall, you’re trying to steal my home. If that isn’t enough reason to get upset, I don’t know what is.”

  “Dammit, Elissa, I’m not going to throw you out into the snow,” he growled. “You can have time to relocate—a month should be sufficient You simply can’t take any reservations after the first of the year.”

  “And people say you’re not a prince!”

  “Dammit. I own this place. What do you expect—”

  “No! You’re wrong,” she interrupted. “You have to be wrong! This inn means everything to me!”

  Though his eyes flared, he didn’t respond. With a small, frustrated shake of his head, he pivoted away.

  Retrieving the hanky from her coat pocket, she dabbed at her eyes, sucking in several deep breaths. The cold air in her lungs felt good. She needed the sting of reality to clear his scent from her nostrils and the clouds of attraction from her brain. She hated the man, for heaven’s sake! She hated what he was doing to her and she hated his arrogant attitude that he couldn’t be wrong. But worst of all, she hated whatever it was that had gone haywire in her that made him seem—seem so irresistible. And dam the man, he knew how he affected women. He knew he could make her weak for him, even after everything...

  Slamming her fists into her pockets, she got hold of herself. She would show him. She was not giving up her inn, and she was not turning away guests. She was not telling her employees they would be out of a job in a few days, and she was not planning to stop taking reservations. Business would go on as usual.

  Most importantly of all, she was not going to let his charisma affect her. For once in his life, Alex D’Amour, was going to get a rude awakening. He was going to be wrong—about a lot of things!

  Fuming, she whirled toward the backyard, but stilled at the sight of the tall, handsome man pulling the giggling girls around on one of the brand-new Christmas sleds that had been leaning against the house. Confounded, she watched him run through the snow to the squealing delight of the twins.

  What was his motive? She knew him too well to believe he had any desire to entertain small children. And she would never believe he was doing it as a favor to her. Now that was crazy! No, most likely, he was only perpetuating the hoax that they were friends. That had to be it. Helen had come outside onto the small porch and was grinning and waving.

  The man was good.

  Damien made it back the next day just in time for his birthday party. He and Jack had completed their various projects and made connections at the Springfield airport, riding back together in Damien’s rented BMW.

  The idea of a party didn’t enthuse Elissa. She would have begged off, but she knew she would have seemed terribly antisocial, spending Damien’s birthday hiding in her office. Still, Alex’s nearness, his heady scent and his speculative gaze—which seemed always to be trained on her�
��was driving her to distraction.

  More than once, that day, she’d experienced a bizarre need to touch him, though she’d resisted. And at breakfast, she’d found herself breathing so deeply of his aroma she’d grown light-headed, almost toppling into his lap. What kind of a fool was she? How could she be attracted to the one man who could take everything she loved away from her?

  Though the idea of spending more time in the same room with Alex than absolutely necessary was the last thing Elissa wanted to do, she found the party quite enjoyable. Jule was through for the day as head housekeeper, and had changed into a pretty yellow warm-up. Her husband, Hirk, was there, and had brought little Milhouse. The darling two-year-old played quietly before the fire with the twins. Several of the guests joined in the fun, eating cake and singing “Happy Birthday” to Damien Lord. They were obviously excited to be included in a party for the eminent author and political columnist.

  Helen announced they were going to play a game called “pass the orange,” and in a blinding flash the evening turned into Elissa’s worst nightmare. She’d never played the game, but she knew it initialed passing the piece of fruit from person to person, without using hands.

  Elissa closed her eyes in denial that this was happening, while Helen gathered everyone into a circle, arranging them boy-girl-boy-girl.

  “Okay...” Helen held up a puny orange. “The idea is to pass this around the circle without dropping it. Watch closely.”

  Elissa clenched her teeth as her younger sister faced Damien, placing the orange between her chin and her collarbone. “Can everybody see? No hands, but you can use just about any other body part to make sure the orange doesn’t fall to the floor as you pass it from one person to the next.”

  With the finesse of an Olympics Orange Passing gold medalist, Damien dipped his chin to Helen’s, catching the orange between his jaw and shoulder. A quick tug dislodged the orange from Helen’s throat. Now Damien held it jauntily between his chin and chest. Elissa watched with a jaundiced eye. Sure, they made it look easy just to sucker the others into the game, then the naive fools were forced to make jackasses of themselves.

  Damien turned to offer the orange to an elderly guest of the inn, placing it between her chin and shoulder.

  Elissa took a step backward, deciding this was a good time to escape to her office, but a hand at her elbow halted her. “No, you don’t, Miss Crosby.”

  The hairs on her nape stood up and she peered sideways. “Where did you come from?”

  “California,” Alex said with a grin.

  She tugged on his hold, but not very hard. She didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that she had an aversion to having Alex’s jaw close enough to hers to kiss, er, touch! “That’s just so amusing,” she asided in a surly whisper.

  He indicated the game. “It’s almost your turn.”

  “I’m not playing.”

  He lifted a brow. “Chicken, Miss Crosby?”

  She knew he was baiting her but she didn’t care. “I don’t like games played with fruit.”

  He chuckled. “There are a few I could teach you that I bet you’d like.”

  She inhaled a scandalized breath. What was he talking about? Kinky sex? She backed away, but found her exit thwarted by his hold at her elbow.

  “Elissa,” Helen called. “Poor Hirk is getting a stiff neck. It’s your turn.”

  She jumped at the sound of her name and turned around. At least, she turned as far as she could with Mr. Oh-No-You-Don’t still clutching her. With a fake grin and a frosty rebuke in her eyes, she shifted back to face Alex. “I need my arm.”

  His bow as he let her go was almost imperceptible. She felt the urge to run, but knew it was too late. Hirk was waiting with an orange stuck in his neck. With a smile of apology to everyone for holding up the game, she faced Hirk. “Okay, Boggs, let’s do it.”

  The tall, gangly man bent to present her with the orange. Being a shy person, he made every effort to insert the fruit between Elissa’s jaw and collarbone without any embarrassing touching. She liked that about Hirk. Shy and polite. Unlike some people—arrogant and rude—standing on the other side of her.

  Once the orange was secure, she stiffly turned to deposit it against Alex’s throat. Her intent was to get rid of it and away from him with great dispatch. When their eyes met, he grinned, and a shudder of apprehension went through her. Why did she have the feeling his plans didn’t coincide with hers? “Don’t do anything stupid,” she whispered.

  “I never do anything stupid,” he breathed into her ear as he leaned down to receive her orange.

  At first the transfer seemed to be going fine. However, a millisecond after Elissa released the orange, Alex said, “Whoops.”

  “Whoops?” she echoed, unable to catch the orange against her jaw. The darned thing had rolled too far down her chest. Still, it didn’t drop. Alex had saved it with his cheek, and now was rolling it along her sweater.

  “Sorry.” His gaze lifting to meet hers, his eyes alight with mischief. “I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

  Hating the need to do it, she thrust her chest out to help him coax the orange toward his jaw. With excruciating slowness, he maneuvered the fruit from the rise of one breast clear across the other.

  His cheek brushed her breasts, then his chin, then his shoulder, as he twisted and turned to move the orange. By that time, it had made the trip across her body, Elissa and Alex were pressed together chest to breast. Their arms wide while they rubbed and bumped against each other in the struggle to get the wayward orange into the hollow of Alex’s throat. At least she was struggling toward that goal.

  “I’m about to get it. One more second,” he said, his eyes dancing with fun.

  She harbored strong reservations about Alex’s assurances. The orange slid up a bit, but not enough for her to catch it with her chin. Dam Alex D’Amour! She knew he was doing this on purpose, just to make her miserable. He rolled the orange up slightly, inching it toward her shoulder. She had a flash of hope that she was seconds away from snagging it with her jaw. Her breasts were pressed hard against his chest as he continued to nudge the fruit with his shoulder to a fraction of an inch below her collarbone. Just a little further! she pleaded inwardly.

  Trying desperately to concentrate on the game, and ignore the tormenting hardness of his body, she dipped slightly, curving her shoulder forward in an effort to trap the orange. Alex lifted his glance to hers and she froze. Their lips were so close. So close...

  His breath was warm and tempting against her mouth, and she felt a tremor of desire. She knew how those lips felt, how they made her feel. Though she’d promised herself never to touch them again, the sexy rat was making the vow difficult to keep.

  “Just one more second,” Alex said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

  “Oh, no, hurry,” Jack called through a laugh.

  “Good game,” Damien said. “Next time let’s do it with a pea.”

  Another burst of laughter filled the room. Alex’s scent was everywhere—in her nostrils, her brain. She was woozy. Those irritating silver eyes beckoned. Her pulse was reaching levels that went far beyond merely disloyal. As Alex moved against her in a grueling, meandering trek to relocate the dratted orange, their hips and bellies stroked and bumped, sometimes locking together for long seconds filled with sweet torture. The masculine texture of his body taunted and aroused, making her weak. If she didn’t act quickly, she would actually be kissing the man in front of God and everybody.

  Desperate to be free of his spell, she took an abrupt step backward, allowing the orange to fall to the oriental rug with a soft thud.

  “Oh dear,” she said, feigning distress.

  “Elissa!” Laughing, Helen headed through the circle toward her. “I hope you know what you’ve done.”

  Elissa shook out her curls, breathing deeply to regain her poise. “I’m sorry. I guess that means I’m out?”

  “Don’t you know how the game goes?” Helen retrieved the orange. “N
ow you have to kiss Alex.”

  “Really?” Alex flashed a crooked grin. “Elissa. You flirt.”

  How could she have forgotten such a terrifying rule? She sensed that her face had gone as red as her hair, and she feared her head would explode from fury. How dare Alex tease her! After all, he was the cause of her dropping the darned orange.

  Ignoring her pledge to keep her animosity for Alex a secret, she opened her mouth to tell him what she thought of him, and to inform him of exactly what hot place she hoped he would go.

  Before she could shout out a single syllable, Alex took her face in his hands and kissed her. Hard. His lips held such sizzling persuasion that she forgot that she was going to shout at him. She forgot the other people in the room. She forgot her name. And she forgot that the man making her toes tingle with his kiss was her worst enemy.

  Elissa tossed off her blankets, moaning. She couldn’t sleep, angry with herself for allowing a ruthless landgrabber any power over her heart. Half the night she’d tossed and turned, trying not to think about his disturbing kiss.

  Her memory of it was blurred and foggy, which was unlike her. She could only vaguely remember babbling about needing to get some bills paid, then skittering down the stairs to hide in her office. She’d gotten little accomplished, except for trembling and blinking back tears, and she hardly called that an achievement.

  She refused to think about her feelings. She’d always seen herself as an independent person, completely selfreliant. Alex D‘Amour was her enemy. Did he think his expertise in seduction would make her surrender her efforts to keep her inn? Well, if that was his plan, it wouldn’t work. Dr. Grayson would be back in his office tomorrow, and she would be able to talk with him, find out how he and his staff were progressing with her ownership problem. Very soon she would have the bothersome Mr. D’Amour out of her heart, er, hair!

  Scrambling from her bed she slid into her Goofy slippers and grabbed her robe. Knotting the sash, she shoved the vision of a pair of beguiling eyes to a back shelf of her brain.