Her Mistletoe Man

He definitely wanted something from her, but silverware wasn’t what he had in mind.

Aunt Shirley interrupted his hesitation. “I insist.”

“Then I insist on paying regular hotel rates, and for the meals as well.”

Tucker didn’t know what made him agree to stay, but he suspected Ruth had something to do with it. It was nothing she said or did. More, it was a feeling he got from her. Although they came from different circumstances, he sensed they shared a common bond. He detected an undercurrent stirring her soul, creating a whirlpool of emotions in her inner being. As for himself, his whirlpool felt like a deep, black hole out of which he feared he’d never emerge. But, for some reason, that hole seemed a little less black, a little less bottomless, when he was near Ruth.

“We’ll discuss that at checkout time,” said Aunt Shirley, smiling. Then she mumbled something about making room at the inn in Bethlehem. The older woman seemed obviously pleased to have him join their household.

He could tell, however, that Ruth was not happy with the arrangement.

Ruth wasn’t happy with the arrangement. She suspected the charming newcomer was up to no good, and she wondered why she was the only one who could see through this guy. But her family’s willing acceptance of the stranger and their open invitation to him were thwarting her attempts to protect her impulsive aunt. Maybe he’d been telling the truth about the blood-brothers pact. But what if he hadn’t been?

She got a stack of plates out of the cabinet and placed them around the table. When she was done with that, she returned to the cabinet for glasses. As she reached for the first one, a movement through the window over the sink caught her eye. A leather-jacketed figure was moving the two-seater convertible sports car to the carriage-house-turned-garage behind the house. Of course. He wouldn’t want anyone ripping off his car while he ripped off her aunt.

He was convincing, that was certain. But apparently she was the only one who picked up on the subtle vibes that their handsome visitor sent out. Sure, Vivian and Brooke had picked up on some vibes, but she suspected they were more hormonal than anything else. Besides, Vivian picked up vibes from—and sent out signals to—all red-blooded males.

The message Ruth received from him was that he was a man on a mission. True, he was looking for something, but Ruth was convinced the “something” he sought was not a slip of paper under a floorboard. There was more. And she intended to find out what else he was after.

Ruth leaned against the sink and watched as he came out of the carriage house, pausing in the doorway to survey the grounds. Tucker was a devilishly good-looking man, no doubt about it.

Something brushed against her arm, pulling her back to the present.

Vivian nudged her with an elbow. “Want me to get a mop? Someone could slip and fall in that puddle of drool.”

Ruth bristled at her sister’s misinterpretation. “I just don’t think he should have the run of the place. Who knows what he might be getting into?”

“Let it rest,” said Vivian. “By the way, Aunt Shirley said to add another plate for dinner. She talked Cousin Tucker into joining us this evening.”

By now, Ruth was gritting her teeth. “He’s not our cousin!”

“Yeah. So?”

There was no arguing with these people. Once her headstrong family members had their minds made up, there was no changing them. And since, for the space of about forty-five minutes, they’d thought Tucker to be their cousin, he would forever after have that status. Talk about family ties!

Ruth got out another plate, and Vivian helped her carry the rest of the glasses to the large formal dining room.

When dinner was served, it turned out to be anything but formal. The noise and commotion were enough to make the Ringling Brothers envious. Aunt Shirley had to rap her tea glass with her spoon to quiet everyone for the blessing.

After grace was said, Brooke began filling Tucker in on who was who in their family, starting with Ada May. “Did you know Aunt Ada’s a hooker?” she asked matter-of-factly.

Tucker glanced down the table at the sweet white-haired woman who appeared to be every bit of eighty years old. This was the one who, while they were decorating the Christmas tree, became embarrassed when Brooke casually used the word pregnant to describe the situation of a girl at her school. Ada May had hastily advised her young niece to say “in the family way” instead.

But now, having been called a hooker, she merely nodded sweetly, the flesh of her chin bobbing as she did so.

Tucker turned to the girl beside him and spoke in a low, unbelieving tone. “She used to do that, eh?”

“Still does,” Brooke insisted. “Don’t you, Aunt Ada?”

Ada May nodded again, making the flesh under her chin ripple like water on a rock-skipped pond. “I tried to get Oren interested in doing it, too, but it’s not his cup of tea. He said the little bit of money I get out of it isn’t worth all the effort I put into it.”

Tucker frowned, trying to make sense of it. “You actually have…customers? And Oren doesn’t mind?”

“Sure, I have them lined up waiting for my next piece,” she said. “And of course Oren doesn’t mind.” She bestowed a loving look on her husband. “He likes to watch me work…says it’s very relaxing.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn’t kid you. If you’d like, we can go into the parlor this evening, and I’ll show you some of the tricks and fancy maneuvers I’ve learned over the years. I won’t even charge you.”

Tucker rubbed his chin, scratching the newly sprouted bristles. “That’s, uh, very generous of you.”

Sitting beside the elderly woman, Ruth smiled at Tucker as she patted her aunt’s hand. “If you don’t have time for a lesson,” she told him, “perhaps you’d rather take a look at the assortment of rugs Aunt Ada has hooked.”

Brooke giggled as the cat was let out of the bag. However, judging from Ruth’s careful selection of words, it was clear they were not to let the elderly craftswoman know she’d been the butt of a naughty joke. She’d surely die of embarrassment.

Tucker took the hint and decided that changing the subject would lessen the chances of Ada finding out what was so funny.

“In that case,” he confided aloud to the girl beside him, “I guess you could say I was once in a motorcycle gang.”

“Really?” Brooke looked skeptical.

“Yep. When I was eight I joined a gang of kids who all wished we had motorcycles.” He nodded thoughtfully. “We even got lick-and-stick tattoos.”

Although Brooke rolled her eyes in the age-old tradition of teenagers, Tucker was rewarded with a smile from Ruth.

He liked her smile. He supposed it was the infamous Babcock smile since many of the people sitting at the table shared a similar feature. But hers was somehow different. Although her sister’s smile was more stunning in an overt sort of way, Ruth’s seemed to hint that there was quite a bit more to her than what showed on the surface.

And despite her understandable apprehension toward him, he wanted to get to know her better. Explore those marvelous Babcock lips. Make them turn upward with satisfaction like a cat that’s had its fill of cream.

She averted her gaze and scooped up a forkful of mashed potatoes. Tucker watched, transfixed, as she brought it up to those full, lush lips that pursed to receive it.

“When’s the last time you had a home-cooked meal like this?” Oren demanded.

Reluctantly, Tucker pulled his attention away from the lovely woman who had held him in her spell and turned it to Oren. He surveyed the blue china plate that was heaped with mashed potatoes, green beans, corn pudding, succotash, hot biscuits and meatloaf smothered in onion gravy. The last time he’d eaten like this was…well, when he’d been here with the Newlands.

“Oh, about eleven or twelve years, I suppose.”

“You poor thing,” said Aunt Shirley as she passed him the bowl of potatoes. “Eat up, dear. We have plenty. And there’s pumpkin pie for dessert.”

The rest of the meal passed in a blur, with everyone trying to get him to take more than his fill.

When everyone was finished, he picked up his plate as he’d always done with the Newlands and started to carry it to the kitchen. At the doorway, he paused. Emboldened by the family’s unconditional acceptance, he considered the opportunity that presented itself. When Ruth, apparently unaware of his hesitation, collided into his back, he decided to go for it.

Recovering, she tried to peer around him. “What’s the holdup?”

Turning around, Tucker took care to block the doorway to keep her from moving past the threshold. With a satisfied grin tugging at his lips, he met her questioning gaze and pointed to the cluster of greenery that dangled above them.

He glanced at the woman beside him to see how she was taking this obvious setup.

Not well. Her brown eyes flashed a warning at her giggling cousin, but it was too late. The rest of the relatives were now in on it and cheering them on.

Tucker flashed her his most encouraging smile. “The first Christmas kiss of the season is good luck.”

“Really? I never heard of that tradition.”

“Neither did I,” Tucker admitted. “I just made it up.”

The kinfolk behind them formed a semicircle to get a better look. Though Tucker found the idea of kissing her quite appealing, he would have liked it better if they’d been here alone.

“Just do it and get it over with,” said Aunt Shirley. “If you make us old people stand here much longer, our varicose veins are going to explode.”

Tucker looked at Ruth and gave a questioning shrug.

She returned with a resigned sigh. “We may as well do it, because they won’t leave us alone until we do.”

He took the plate from her and set them both on the sideboard. Then he lifted his arms, unsure whether he should hold her or just bend down and give her a little peck on the cheek. When she moved forward, face upturned and lips slightly puckered, he immediately discarded the latter idea.

Her arms hung by her sides, a clear indication that he was not to take this too seriously. He rested his hands on her shoulders. Although the bulky sweater made her look soft and round, her arms were lean and firm under his touch.

They each tilted to their right but still managed to bump noses. She looked away, embarrassed. While she was distracted, he touched his mouth to hers, the movement brief yet decisive. And more than a little pleasurable.

She tasted of sweetened iced tea, and her lips were warm, soft and surprisingly welcoming. Her eyes closed for an awe-inspiring second. For the briefest of instants, Tucker almost forgot they were surrounded by family.

When their lips parted, she met his gaze, all signs of embarrassment gone. Her clear, golden-brown eyes appeared to be smiling, as if she may have enjoyed the kiss as much as he had.

The first Christmas kiss under the mistletoe. As far as he was concerned, it was indeed a lucky kiss.

Feeling magnanimous after his victory, he lifted his head to thank his lucky stars and the little green ball of leaves that dangled over their heads.

“Oops, I was mistaken,” he told her without a hint of remorse. “That’s not mistletoe…it’s holly.”

Chapter Three

Ruth didn’t know why she had agreed to that stupid Christmas kiss thing Tucker made up a couple of days ago. At first she told herself it was because she knew her persistent family wouldn’t leave her alone until she’d been manipulated into initiating the silly ritual.

But then, lying in bed later that night, she had to admit—if only to herself—that a tiny part of her had wanted to kiss Tucker. A very tiny part, of course.

Unfortunately, it did little to satisfy her curiosity, if that’s what one called the strange little yearning that had invaded her well-being since “Cousin” Tucker’s arrival. Instead, it was just enough to tantalize her into wanting a better sampling. It was like the nibble-size morsels of food they give away at the grocery store, usually at mealtime so the shopper can’t get enough of the tasty fare.

And tasty fare he was. For a man as good-looking as Tucker Maddock, he was a surprisingly good kisser, especially considering the fact that he was holding back because of her family’s presence. In her limited experience, she’d found that men of average appearance were usually better kissers than their handsome counterparts because they felt a need to compensate.

The tiny hairs prickled on the back of her neck. Maybe he was such a good kisser because he was compensating for some devious leanings. If he was truly a con man, he wouldn’t want to leave anything to chance when wooing his next victim.

Then again, he may have just had a lot of experience.

In the three short days since he’d come to stay with them, he had managed to win over her entire family. Ruth had merely tried to keep a safe distance and a watchful eye.

Although Tucker made her uneasy by his presence, she was even more concerned when he stayed in his room and out of her sight as he had most of this morning. She’d found him in the attic once. Where might she find him next?

She got up from the sofa to throw the last log on the fire. It had been cold for the past few weeks, but last night the weather had turned bitter.

“Don’t forget to bring in some more wood,” Aunt Shirley told Boris. “Tonight’s supposed to be even worse than last night.”

As luck seemed to be having it lately—or perhaps it was carefully calculated timing—Tucker happened to be walking past the parlor as her aunt made her request.

He poked his head into the room. “I was on my way out to check on my car after I get something to drink,” he told them. “I’ll pick up some wood while I’m out there.”

Boris, obviously relieved to be released from the chore, flashed his dentures at their houseguest.

“Why don’t you get the wood while I fix you some hot chocolate?” Ruth suggested. That way she could keep an eye on him through the kitchen window as she prepared the beverage, and perhaps she could learn some more about him as he drank it.

Tucker seemed surprised by her apparent change of heart. Nevertheless, he pulled on a pair of gloves and his leather jacket over his sweater and went out after showing a heart-stopping smile of thanks. Her heart turned a tiny flip at the seemingly innocent gesture, but she immediately tamped down the emotions that threatened her objectivity. She needed to be clear-headed when dealing with a pro such as Tucker.

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