Dawn Temple - Moonlight and Mistletoe

“Ashamed to tell your friends about me?”

If only it were that simple. “Of course not. Lindy’s pregnant, and I didn’t want her to worry about me being stuck up here with a potential lunatic.”

“Potential? So the jury’s still out?” His lips curled, crinkling his dimple to life.

Sitting in the beam of that sexy smile, her blood warmed, delicious tingles zinging to all her sensitive places. “I believe I’ll plead the fifth.”

“I thought you were all about social chitchatting?”

“Oh, I am, but I also believe a woman’s entitled to her secrets.” Hyperaware of just how close Kyle’s body was to hers, she sprung to her feet. He rose too, his nearness effectively pinning her in place.

His fingers brushed the hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “Careful, Shayna.” The deep timbre of his voice pulsated beneath her skin. “Uncovering a woman’s secrets is a temptation most men can’t resist.”

Shayna’s focus was riveted on his firm lips as he spoke. Would his kiss be tentative and tender or demanding and devastating?

Forcibly reminding herself that she had too much at stake to risk finding out, she sidestepped around him. “Thanks for the warning. A girl can never be too careful.”

Shayna dillydallied in her room for as long as she dared. She dressed, deciding on her favorite jeans (the magical ones that made her look like she had long legs) and her new orange silk-and-cashmere blend sweater. Telling herself it was all about the holiday spirit, she put a little extra effort into her makeup and ditched her regular braid in favor of a softer twist.

She didn’t know what irked her more-that she’d lied about his presence or that Kyle had called her on it. She honestly hadn’t wanted to risk upsetting Lindy, but more than anything, she didn’t want everyone and their brother to find out she’d been stranded with Kyle.

It wouldn’t take long for tongues to start wagging. Her neighbors would speculate about them entertaining themselves horizontally, even though Shayna had never been the casual fling type. But truth be told, had Kyle been stranded here for any other reason, goodness knew the speculation would have been dead-on. She wanted that irritating man something fierce.

If she didn’t find some way to establish stronger boundaries, she would likely become so distracted by her attraction that Kyle could talk her into anything.

Rising worry propelled her into action. She had to get control of her rampant hormones. The next forty-eight hours were critical. She had to stay focused, she had to maintain a safe distance and mostly, she had to find a way to get Kyle-and Walker-out of her life. Pronto.

How the heck would she accomplish such a monumental task? First, no more mooning over her sexy houseguest. That would lead to nothing but trouble, and she certainly didn’t need any more of that.

Step two, figure out how the heck to turn down Walker’s crazy proposal and cut all ties with him and Patty.

Easy as pie, right?

While she waited for inspiration to strike, she’d just have to march down there, park Kyle in front of the football games and sequester herself in the kitchen.

Not the greatest game plan, but somehow, she’d have to make it work. Grabbing her nearly finished Ms. Noel costume, she headed downstairs, delightfully surprised by the roaring fire and the scrumptious aroma of sautéing onions. The rattle of pots and pans led her to the kitchen, where she found Kyle standing at the stove, his back to her. Brinks noticed her presence first and raced over, calling her to the man’s attention. He turned, his face flushed from the heat of the stove.

His eyes slowly roamed up and down her body. Feeling more exposed than she had last night in her gaping robe, she forced herself to stand steady under his heated regard, despite the heavy warmth invading her belly. She had to keep these blasted reactions hidden or he’d pounce like a mountain lion feasting on a scared rabbit.

“Nice.” A muscle trembled along his whiskery jawline as he turned back to the sizzling pan.

That single, soft-spoken syllable affected Shayna more than a bucketful of flowery words ever could. She had to lick her suddenly parched lips before she could respond. “Thanks.”

She dropped her hand onto Brinks’s head and rubbed behind his ears. His liquid brown eyes stared up at her. One side of his mouth was hooked on his teeth. The look seemed to say, “Go on. I’ve got your back.”

Putting on her game face, Shayna tossed the costume onto the table and headed for the sink. “You look like an old pro in here,” she commented as she washed her hands.

He shrugged. The movement’s forced nonchalance reminded her of the foster care children she worked with at the County Community Center. They craved praise and encouragement but got it so rarely that when they did they rejected it. “I’ve been cooking since I was a teenager.”

“Did your mother teach you?”

“No,” he said bitterly. “She wasn’t what you’d call the domestic type.”

Again, she was taken aback by the reminder that she’d so misjudged his background. The man had done an awesome job of washing away all the visible signs of his less than stellar childhood. “So where’d you learn?”

“In high school, I worked nights at a greasy diner.” With a smooth flick of his wrist, he slid slices of the bell peppers she’d picked this morning into the sizzling pan. “By the time I got to college, I had landed a position as line cook at a posh supper club.”

She could easily picture him maturing, both in age and in skill, and working his way up the food-service ladder. Guess he came by that bulldog determination naturally.

“Lucky me, getting stranded with a man who can cook,” she joked, wanting to steer clear of the past. Very dangerous territory. “So, what’s on the menu?”

“Corn chowder, broccoli and rice, beer bread, baked apples, ham and green bean casserole.”

“Sounds yummy. And complicated. And way beyond the capabilities of me and my poor neglected pantry.”

“All those fresh vegetables are the key. And I found all kinds of good stuff in the freezer. Your green thumb has saved the day.” His lips curled, his eyes twinkled, his delicious dimple teased. The look was pure charm.

Good. Charisma she could handle. It was the notion that he’d try to get at her with honest commiseration that she worried about.

“So, what can I do to help?”

Kyle turned off the gas under the skillet and moved it to a back burner before turning, his face comically contorted into a mask of outraged alarm. “You do know Thanksgiving dinner requires actual cooking, right?”

Jeez. Why did he have to be so darn likable?

Laughing, she jabbed his arm. “Very funny. I’m not completely useless in the kitchen. I can certainly follow a recipe.”

“I’m sure you can, but for today, I’m banning you from the kitchen.”

“But it’s my kitchen.”

He spread his arms, indicating the groceries and cooking gear covering the counter space. “I plan to trade a home-cooked Thanksgiving dinner for my room and board. All you have to do is relax and let me do all the work.” His dimple flared to life.

“Said the spider to the fly.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Not one lick, buster.”

“Well, I could let you cook and just write you a check to cover my expenses, but I figured that would piss you off.” His dimple beamed even brighter, and she had to fight back a grin of her own.

She knew his offer was a beguiling trap. Nothing with this man was as simple as it sounded, but honestly, it was hard to see the downside of having a good-looking guy cook you a lavish meal.

“Do you promise to behave?”