Dawn Temple - Moonlight and Mistletoe

“So you’re the star of the show?”

She eased back down on the sofa, favoring him with a tentative smile before feeding a length of red thread through a needle. “More like head volunteer. Ms. Noel serves as hostess for all the festival’s fundraising events.”

“Ah, local Christmas traditions. Definite social chitchat kind of stuff. Tell me more.”

“Wellll.” She drew the word out, her lips puckering as if she were shooting him a kiss across the room. “Everything kicks off Saturday night with the Junior Miss Noel Pageant. Ms. Noel serves as the master of ceremonies. Then Sunday is the countywide toy drive.”

“Will the weather clear up enough for you to make both events?”

“If it doesn’t, I’ll just have to hike back to town. Can’t have the Noel Festival without Ms. Noel.” Her fingers flew over the dress’s edge.

“That’s some pretty powerful optimism you have there.”

“What’s the alternative? Walk around expecting the worst? That’s no fun.”

“Life isn’t always about having fun,” he pointed out.

“Trust me, I’m well aware of that. But what have you got to lose by choosing sunshine over gloom and doom?”

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers linked across his chest. “Nothing, I guess, but being prepared helps mitigate the damage when the inevitable gloom and doom hits.”

Shayna rolled here eyes. “No, it doesn’t. Sitting around waiting for bad things to happen doesn’t make them any less horrible. It just makes life miserable all the time.”

“So you’re saying we should skip around whistling a happy tune all the time and ignore reality?”

“I’m saying we should skip and whistle whenever we can, so we have happy memories to fight for when trouble comes. If you don’t treasure the sunshine, why even bother fighting against the gloom and doom?”

Damn good thing it was a rhetorical question, because Kyle, whose life had been sorely lacking in sunshine, sure as hell didn’t have an answer.

After a night of too much thinking and too little sleeping, Kyle finally crawled out of bed around 8:00 a.m. For the first time in his career, his objectivity was slipping.

Shayna was getting to him, working her way around his emotional shields, tempting him to care. She’d even gotten him to break his cardinal rule against talking about his past.

He had to put an end to this growing connection, had to find a way to keep her firmly in the opposition role, to stop seeing her as a desirable, intriguing woman he wanted to spend a week in bed with.

His body sprung to full attention at the idea of a naked, sleepy Shayna in his bed. “Holy hell.” He threw back the covers and sat up, rubbing a hand over his face. Never in his life had he been this affected by one particular woman, and he damned sure didn’t like it.

The cabin was dead quiet when he opened the bedroom door. A weak, ashy light strained through the sheer curtains, signaling what he assumed was this morning’s lack of sunshine. In the kitchen, he found the coffeemaker set and ready to go. All he had to do was push the green button and wait.

The heady scent of morning brew gave a few of his brain cells a head start. Behind him, he heard a click-clack and turned just in time for Brinks to jump on his chest rather than his back. He staggered under the dog’s weight.

In place of last night’s toothy scowl, the beast wore what could only be described as a grin. His tail wagged fast enough to power a small country.

“Good morning, Dr. Jekyll. I met your alter ego last night.”

The dog woofed, then jumped down and made a beeline for the back door. Understanding the urgency, Kyle let him out. A thin sheet of ice coated everything. Both his and Brinks’s breath turned to steam in the frigid morning air.

Under different circumstances, he might find the scene beautiful. The world looked clean and calm. But today, he didn’t want clean and calm. He wanted to wrap things up and be on his way. He needed to get back to his world, to claim his partnership and move forward with his life.

Back inside, the coffeemaker dinged. Kyle called the dog and they hustled inside. With his first, vital cup of coffee in hand, he began pacing the quiet confines of Shayna’s home.

His brain spun at warp speed, contemplating how to turn this roadblock into his advantage. He had to find a way to capitalize on having Shayna’s undivided attention, because by God, when the roads and bridges cleared, he would have his life and his career back on track.

Thinking of the bridge reminded him of last night’s accident and the e-mail he hadn’t gotten to read. Anticipating the key to getting this job done, he stalked back into his room and dug his cell phone out of his briefcase. He flipped open the phone. Good battery, zero reception. Damn.

He quickly layered on all the dry clothing he had, both his and hers, and after stuffing the phone in his pocket, headed for the front yard to hunt for an active cell signal. He jerked the sweatshirt’s hood over his head and carefully navigated his way across her front yard. Frozen grass crunched beneath his feet like broken glass.

The bars on his phone popped up, then died away again as he took another step. He backed up and quickly opened his inbox. He had several other messages waiting, but at the moment, he was only interested in reading Amanda’s report.

No adoption records for the minor Shayna Hoyt.

Checked birth certificate files and found one in Mass for Shayna Hoyt, father unknown, and another in Tenn, same dates and vitals, listing father as James Miller. Patricia Hoyt listed as mother in both records.

Kyle reread the message twice.

Damn. No wonder she didn’t want Dr. Walker outed as her birth father. If the truth were revealed, Shayna Miller would cease to exist, because duplicate birth certificates could mean only one thing: one was forged. And if James Miller had forged Shayna’s birth certificate, that meant he’d never been legally granted permanent custody of her when she was seven, as they’d both claimed.

This was what he’d been waiting on. The key to Shayna’s cooperation, the ammunition he needed to get this case wrapped up quickly.

Heart heavy, Kyle returned the phone to his pocket and turned back toward the house.

So where the hell was his usual rush of victory?

She’d overslept. A very rare occurrence. Normally, Brinks’s bladder was more reliable than any alarm clock. Shayna rolled over and stretched her legs toward the foot of the bed, feeling around for the dog.

Nothing but heavy covers and cool sheets. Prying her eyelids open, she squinted at the murky light filling her room. Wow. She’d really overslept.

Throwing off the covers, she sat up and dropped her bare feet to the floor. A whistle flew from her lips as she immediately yanked her warm toes off the icy hardwood. Thinking longingly of the thick socks she’d dropped on Kyle’s bed last night, she hopped up and scurried to the bathroom, where her slippers waited. When she’d finished up in the bathroom and returned to her room, she found Brinks sprawled across her bed.

“Good morning, handsome. Thanks for letting me sleep in.”

The big old softie rolled over and showed her his belly. Unable to resist, she complied with his silent request. His coarse fur was freezing. Looked as if her guest had his good points after all.

“Did you thank Kyle for letting you out?”

The dog barked in response and raced back downstairs. Shayna followed, much more slowly, wishing she shared a smidge of the dog’s enthusiasm for the coming day.

Last night had not gone according to plan.

First was the off-the-chart surge of lust, where she’d nearly attacked him at the dinner table. Honestly, she didn’t know what had gotten into her. It’s not as if he was the first good-looking man she’d met. So why did this man-so determined to stir up things she wanted to forget-pack such a wallop?