Mistletoe & Mayhem: Mistletoe & Mayhem / Santa's Sexy Secret

“More?” he asked bringing a paper bag out from behind his back. “Lazarus indicated you preferred cheeseburgers.”

She had reached for the bag before she could stop herself. But she didn’t open it. “Dogs don’t talk, and magicians don’t really make things disappear. Where did you put the meat loaf?”

“Where you put yours—in the plant stand.”

“You saw me?”

“Magicians are always looking for new tricks. Sophie ditched hers under her jacket.”

Jodie couldn’t prevent a laugh. Then tilting her head to one side, she studied the man standing in front of her. Though the moonlight was bright, it left his face shadowed, mysterious-looking. In another age, he could have been a powerful magician. A wizard, perhaps. Fascination warred with caution. She really didn’t know anything about Shane Sullivan, she reminded herself.

Then she recalled the look on Irene’s face when he’d taken that second slice of meat loaf, and in spite of her resolve, she felt something inside of her soften.

Just then her stomach growled.

“I think you better eat that cheeseburger,” he said.

“Irene and Sophie were still up when I came out here. I don’t want—”

“No, don’t turn around,” he cautioned. “They’re watching us right now through the window.”

“They…Do you think they saw the cheeseburger?”

“No. I think they’re more interested in whether or not the mistletoe you’re sitting under will work.”

She glanced up, then back at Shane.

“It had to happen sooner or later. They pretty much had me booby-trap the whole house today.”

Jodie felt the heat flood her face. “You think they want you…they want us to…”

“I think they feel guilty about introducing you to their nephew, but they’re not willing to give up on matchmaking altogether.”

The moment his hand closed around hers and drew her to her feet, something began to tighten in her center. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. He was going to kiss her. The heat in her cheeks suddenly burned through the rest of her body.

“So why don’t you show me how to get down to the lake? Hank Jefferson says the ice fishing is very good, and I have a flashlight in the car.”

He released her hand and turned away, but it was several seconds before she could make her feet follow after him. He’d had no intention of kissing her, yet for a moment, she’d wanted more than anything for him to do just that. She had to get a grip on herself. She had to…stop looking at him. Shifting her gaze to the car, she said, “You put the top down.”

“It’s one of the unwritten rules when you own a convertible,” Shane said, extracting a flashlight from the trunk.

“But no one puts their top down in the middle of winter.”

“Not true. Santa always has the top down on his sleigh.”

Jodie laughed as she turned and led the way around the side of the house. “Okay. I guess I never thought of it that way.”

Falling into step beside her, Shane said, “Lazarus isn’t coming with us.”

“He doesn’t believe in exercise.”

A few seconds later, Shane pointed his flashlight down a path that wound its way through the trees, and for a while they walked in silence.

“The Rutherford sisters are really into celebrating Christmas,” Shane said as the trees pressed closer, blocking out the moonlight.

“Tell me about it.”

“You’re not quite as enthused, I take it?”

She shrugged. “Not the way most people seem to be.”

“Rough childhood?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just always used to wish for one thing—that my father would be home on Christmas morning.”

“Was he?” Shane asked, taking her arm as the path narrowed.

“Usually not. He’d always send a really wonderful gift and a note saying how much he missed us. But it wasn’t the same.”

“No.”

Jodie glanced at him, but she couldn’t tell anything from his expression. “I must sound ungrateful. Sheriff Dillon said that you don’t have any family to spend Christmas with.”

“That puts us in the same boat this year. And it has to be especially rough for you—losing your house.”

“Actually, the hardest thing about it was facing the fact that I’d been so stupid about believing Billy.” She paused and glanced at Shane again. “I’m not sure how to explain it. That house meant everything to my mother. She needed the security. But to my father it was a prison. He could never stand to be in it for very long.”

“He felt the lure of the open road,” Shane said.

“Exactly. And I would have done almost anything to go with him.”

“Yes.”

She could hear the understanding in his voice. It prompted her to go on. “My mother would never agree. She said I couldn’t until I finished school. Then he went off one day and didn’t came back. When we got the news of his death, she never left the house again. She simply pined away until the day she died. Having the bank take the house over gave me a chance to get away from those memories. The day I moved out, I felt…”

“Free?” Shane asked.

“Yes.” They had stepped out of the woods, and the snow-covered ground stretched in front of them to the edge of the lake. “Does that sound crazy?”

“No.” Shane shook his head. “It’s part of what your father felt every time he went off to seek adventure.”

“You sound like you know what it feels like.”

“In a manner of speaking. But I’m still curious as to why you’re living with Irene and Sophie. Why didn’t you just rent an apartment?”

“I figure I owe them.”

Shane turned to her. “Why?”

“It’s my fault they lost their life savings.”

“You blame yourself because they trusted their nephew?”

“They only trusted him because I did. Before I mortgaged my house, they’d refused to give him any money. Paying them rent each month and helping them open their bed-and-breakfast is the least I can do.”

Shane said nothing as they walked toward an old log that had fallen along the edge of the lake. When they reached it, he switched off the flashlight and sat down. “You better eat that cheeseburger before it gets any colder.”

Joining him on the log, she fished it out of the bag and unwrapped it. It was still warm, and she could smell just a hint of onion. Her mouth was open when she paused.

“What’s wrong?” Shane asked.

“I think I’m forgetting to Beware of Greeks Bearing Gifts,” Jodie said. “There’s got to be a catch to this.”

“It’s not poisoned. I promise.”

She shot him a look. “Neither is the bait you’ll use when you go ice fishing. But you won’t be putting it on the line just because you think the fish are hungry. You lured me out here with food to pump me for information, didn’t you? And so far, I’ve cooperated fully.”

Shane threw back his head and laughed. The sound was rich and full. Jodie smiled as she bit into the cheeseburger.

“Why is it that you’re so suspicious of me?” he asked.

“Because you’re not what you seem to be.” The French fries were salty and tasted of grease. Wonderful.

“No one is what they seem to be,” Shane said.

“Alicia Finnerty is,” Jodie pointed out around another bite of cheeseburger. “And Sophie and Irene are. And Sheriff Dillon…Well, maybe he’s not a good example.”

“He’s a good example of what I’m saying,” Shane said. “And as far as Ms. Finnerty and Sophie and Irene go, I’ll bet they have a side of themselves that they don’t present to the world. Some secrets they’re hiding. So do you, I’ll bet.”

Jodie thought of the letter from Billy that she was still carrying in her pocket and glanced at Shane. When he’d caught it and handed it to her, he’d noticed that it didn’t have a stamp. Did he suspect she’d heard from Billy?

“Tell you what. If you’ll tell me one of your secrets, I’ll tell you one of mine,” he said.

His eyes were dark and mysterious in the moonlight. It was even easier now to picture him as a wizard. She thought briefly of Merlin offering knowledge to Arthur. Of the snake in the garden offering much the same thing to Eve. She tucked the cheeseburger back into the bag. “I’ve already told you several.”

Shane nodded. “Fair enough. It’s your turn to ask,” Shane said. “Ask me anything at all.”

A breeze moved the branches overhead, shifting the shadows, and she could see the challenge in his eyes. The words were out before she could prevent them. “Is your name really Shane?”

“Yes,” he said, shifting his gaze to the lakeshore.

“Were your parents big fans of the book?”

“They never said.”

There was a flatness to his tone she’d never heard before, but when he turned to her, he was smiling. “It was a tough name to grow into. It cost me several black eyes in grade school. Until I learned that it’s hard for people to mock you if you turn the tables and laugh at yourself first.”

“Some people never learn that lesson,” Jodie said.

“They get a lot of black eyes. What about you? Is Jodie your given name or a nickname?”

Jodie wrinkled her nose. “It’s my given name. My dad’s name was Joe. Mom was Dee. But I never got in a fight over it.”

“It sounds like your parents loved you very much.”

When she looked into his eyes this time, she saw a bleakness that hadn’t been there before. Then suddenly it changed to something else, something she couldn’t put a name to. But it made her very aware of how close they were, so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. His lips no longer curved in a smile. All she had to do was lean forward, just a little, and she could know what they would feel like pressed against hers. Not soft. No, his mouth would be hard. And his taste as dark and mysterious as his scent. Her eyes widened at the drift of her thoughts. She couldn’t possibly be thinking of kissing Shane Sullivan. But she was. She most definitely was. And the moment she shifted her glance to his eyes, she knew that he was thinking of kissing her, too.

And he was going to do it. He moved slowly to lay his hand along the side of her face. She had plenty of time to pull back, and in spite of the firmness of his hand, he might have let her. But she didn’t move.

And then his lips brushed against hers, so gently that she barely felt them before they withdrew. The second time they lingered longer, but the pressure was still soft, so soft she felt herself sinking into it. The breath she’d been holding slipped out on a sigh as he slowly traced her lips with his tongue. She felt her arms go lax, her eyelids drift shut, as the pleasure seeped through her.

It wasn’t at all the kind of kiss she’d expected from Shane Sullivan. It was exactly the kind of kiss she’d always dreamed about.

“Mmm,” she murmured when he withdrew a second time. She had to have—

“More?” He whispered the question, and she felt his breath against her lips before his mouth at last returned to hers. A tremor moved through her, followed by a wave of heat that burned through her body right down to her toes. His lips continued to mark their magic as he coaxed hers apart with his teeth and his tongue.

This wasn’t anything like her dreams. They’d never been this vivid, and the sensations had never been this intense. Each nip of his teeth on her bottom lip had her head spinning. Each quick flick of his tongue made her tremble. She felt as if she were burning up with a fever, inside and out.

His hand lay along the side of her face as his mouth moved on hers. He touched her nowhere else, and yet she wanted him to. She wanted his hands on her breasts, and even more, she wanted him to touch the heat that had settled at her very center and threatened to explode. Her fingers closed into fists as the greed built within her.

When he drew back, she stayed where she was. Not because she wanted to. More than anything, she wanted to throw her arms around him, drag his mouth back to hers so that she could reach for…whatever had seemed just out of her reach. But the messages from her brain didn’t seem to be getting to her body.

“Well, well…” he said.

She blinked and then stared at him. Well, well! That’s all he had to say? A joke from her childhood drifted through her mind as the anger brought strength to her body. Well, well—the story of two holes in the ground. With all her heart, she wished there were one nearby she could push him into. Her heart was still hammering, her breathing was still ragged, and he looked completely unmoved. At least he wasn’t laughing. If he dared, she would make do with the lake and shove him into that.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“It was a mistake,” Shane said.

She stared at him, appalled that she could feel tears begin to fill her eyes. She was not going to cry. She hadn’t cried in a long time. Even Billy hadn’t made her do that.

The thought gave her the strength to pull herself together. “Don’t make it again,” she said as she rose. Then she turned and moved toward the path.

The moment she did, Shane wanted to curse—her or himself, he wasn’t sure which. And he wasn’t sure why. All he was certain of was that it had been a mistake to bring her down here to the lake. In the moonlight, her skin looked as pale and delicate as the finest silk. He’d been wanting to touch it since he’d pulled that French fry from behind her ear.

But a moment ago, he’d wanted to do more than touch her, more than kiss her. For one frightening moment, his mind had drained of everything but her. He’d forgotten everything else, including his plan in bringing her down to the lake.

To find out about that damn letter.

Not only hadn’t he gotten her to talk about it, but after what had just happened, his prospects didn’t look good.

What in the world was she doing to him? Shane Sullivan always got his man. He’d never allowed a woman, any woman, to distract him before. Never.

If he wanted to catch Billy Rutherford, he was definitely going to have to find a way to handle Jodie Freemont.

But a woman had never driven him so wild with a kiss before.

It was something he thought about a long time before he followed her back to the house.

4

JODIE OPENED her eyes and sat straight up in bed. She must have dozed off. The illuminated face of the clock on her nightstand told her that it was 1:50 a.m. That meant she’d slept for twenty minutes.

What had awakened her? For a moment, she sat perfectly still and listened.

Silence, except for the scrape of a branch against her window. Out on the highway, the sound of a car grew steadily louder, then faded. A board creaked.

Every muscle in her body tightened. Where had the sound come from? Not overhead. Was someone climbing the stairs? Fear tightened her throat as seconds ticked by on her bedside clock. Finally reminding herself to breathe, she inched her way back against the headboard. She was overreacting. Old houses were always creaking. Or maybe it was a case of wishful thinking.

Jodie glanced up at the ceiling. More than anything, she wanted to catch Billy Rutherford in her snare trap. In her mind, she pictured him taking one step and another and another—then the rope whipping around his feet, jerking them out from under him and up until he was swinging back and forth—

Another board creaked. This time it was louder and she was sure it came from overhead. Excitement mixed with panic as she wrapped her arms tightly around her knees and watched her clock. The second hand swept the face slowly. One minute…a minute and a half…two minutes.

She glanced up at the ceiling. Surely the trap would make some noise when it was triggered. Or Billy would certainly make some sound as the rope ripped his feet out from under him—a gasp, a shout, a curse?

Wouldn’t there be some sound as he swung back and forth?

As if on cue, she heard a creak. Then silence. The second hand on her clock made another sweep.

Suddenly, she recalled Irene’s comment. I hope no one ends up hanging by their necks.

Jodie felt her heart jump to her throat and stick. What if she’d killed somebody? Billy?

She had to know. Slipping off the side of the bed, she raced to the door. Another creak overhead stopped her dead in her tracks, and a completely different scenario filled her mind: Billy edging his way across the attic as close to the eaves as he could get. He would only trigger the trap if he actually walked directly across the attic floor.

Whirling, Jodie hurried to the fireplace and carefully lifted the poker from its stand. Then she frowned. What in the world was she going to do with it? She wasn’t going to hit Billy Rutherford any more than she would have shot him if Hank Jefferson had sold her that gun. He might bleed. Even as she shuddered, the floor creaked again.

Straightening her shoulders, Jodie tightened her grip on the poker and whipped it in a wide circle. The great thing about a poker was that you could actually poke people with it—or at least threaten to. In her mind, she pictured Captain Hook. She would just make Billy walk across the floor to the spot where the rope would snap him up.

For a moment, Jodie stood still, visualizing her plan. Then shouldering the poker like a rifle, she walked to the door. Someone was up in the attic, and she was going to get him.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, the silence seemed to deepen. She waited for a moment, listening hard. The sound of a passing car couldn’t penetrate this far into the house.

Overhead, there was silence too. Holding her breath, she edged her way down the hallway. When she reached the door to the attic stairs, it stood wide open. Once more, her heart jumped to her throat, fluttering there like a bird. She clearly remembered closing the door before she’d gone to bed. Could Billy have climbed in through the window and avoided her trap, then snuck down the stairs? Slowly, she turned. Was he even now lurking somewhere in the shadows?

This time the creak sounded like a shot. Letting out the breath she was holding, she whirled back to the stairs. He was still in the attic. Keeping to the very edge of the steps, she climbed them one by one.

The darkness only lessened a little as she approached the top. The moonlight that managed to push its way through the grime on the windows made little headway into the gloom. Pausing on the top step, she counted to ten as she listened.

Nothing. She stepped carefully onto the attic floor, and suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth, and an arm banded around her waist, immobilizing her.

As panic streamed through her, she ordered herself to think. Billy? She had to let him know it was her. But the moment she tried to move, she felt herself gripped even more tightly against a hard, male body. Mixed with the fear was a sudden awareness of how strong those arms were, how callused those fingers. Not Billy’s soft hands, she thought. And not Billy’s scent. Suddenly the memory of what had happened earlier at the lake flooded through her. She recalled Shane’s hand resting along the side of her face, Shane’s mouth pressed lightly but firmly against hers until she couldn’t think of anything, anyone but…It was Shane!

“The window.” The words were barely a breath in her ear.

Narrowing her eyes, she peered through the gloom. Something seemed to be blocking what little light she’d noticed before. Wood scraped against wood as the window slid upward, and she could just make out a silhouette as it climbed into the room.

“Stay.”

Shane released her so quickly she nearly dropped the poker. Because the shadow at the window was the only one she could make out, Jodie kept her eyes on it. A board moaned under the eaves. The shadow froze. Holding her breath, she counted to ten while the silence stretched. The moment the next board creaked, the shadow whirled toward it and suddenly there were two silhouettes locked together. The silence shattered as they pitched to the floor.

There was the sickening sound of a fist pounding into flesh and a series of grunts as the two figures rolled. A chair toppled and something rattled across the floor. Then the two figures rose again, blocking the light. She had to do something to help. Keeping as close to the eaves as she could, she edged her way toward the window. Glass shattered as they toppled a lamp. Poker raised, Jodie moved closer.

She dodged to the right when they rolled toward her. First one was on top, then the other. Which one was the intruder? Even as she hesitated, they rolled again, this time in the direction of the circle of rope.

The snare trap. Should she call a warning? Before she could open her mouth, a figure rose and staggered toward the window.

It had to be Billy. Shane wouldn’t be trying to get away. In the time it took her to decide, the man had swung both legs over the sill and was gone. Jodie raced toward him.

Suddenly, there was a zinging sound, as if the string on a guitar had snapped. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other man suddenly pitch to the floor.

“What the—” Shane ended the thought in a grunt as he shot feetfirst toward the ceiling.

It occurred to her that it was just as she’d visualized it, then she threw herself at the other man who was halfway out the window.

“Stop.” She grabbed at his arm as he reached for a tree limb. A shove sent her reeling into the eaves. As she scrambled to her feet, she saw Shane begin to swing forward, but the man was out of his reach when the rope pulled him back. She made it to the window in time to grab a foot. A mistake, she thought as it kicked her to the floor.

The rafters creaked ominously as she once more lunged toward the window. Leaning out, she saw the man, climbing along the limb of the maple tree. She threw one leg over the sill and leaned forward, reaching. A few more inches and…teetering, she stretched more and grabbed air just as a pair of hands clamped around her waist and jerked her back into the attic.

“Let me go. I can—”

“What? Break your neck?”

“I won’t.” She twisted one way, then another, but the hands gripping her were like a steel vise.

“You damn near toppled out that window.”

“I almost had him. I can still…” Desperate, she tried to pry Shane’s fingers loose. He relaxed his hold just enough to turn her around so she faced him. Jodie found that, even though he was hanging upside down, she was looking almost directly into his eyes. “Will you please let me go? He’s getting away.”

“Thanks to you. I’d have had him in handcuffs right now if you hadn’t interrupted.”

“I didn’t interrupt. You interfered. If you hadn’t, he’d have been swinging from his feet now instead of you.”

“Let’s postpone the debate until you get me down from this thing.”

She tried backing away. His grip on her tightened. “I’ll come back just as soon—”

“Forget it. Until you cut me loose, we’re Siamese twins.”

They might as well have been. They were so close, Jodie could feel his breath on her cheek and see the glint of anger in his eyes. But it wasn’t fear that arrowed down her spine as her gaze moved to his mouth. All she could do was think—if he kissed her now, his lips wouldn’t be soft and gentle as they had been down at the lake. And they wouldn’t be patient. They would be demanding, hot and potent.

She felt his hands grow tighter, felt her own desire curl tight within her. But she wasn’t going to kiss Shane Sullivan again. She couldn’t. It wasn’t possible to kiss a man while he was hanging upside down. Was it?

Perhaps, if he angled his head just right, and she angled hers…

Light flooded the attic. Footsteps thundered up the stairs.

“Jodie, are you all right?” Sophie led the way. Both she and Irene held their pokers at the ready as they crested the top of the attic steps.

“Good girl. Caught our prowler, I see,” Sophie said, but she stopped short when she caught a glimpse of Shane. “You’re not our prowler.” She glanced at Jodie. “Let’s get him down. Did Clyde show you how to unspring this thing or should I go back downstairs and get a knife?”

“There’s a lever,” Jodie said and decided to ignore the fact that Shane didn’t release her as she walked toward it. The distrust between them was obviously mutual, and that suited her just fine.