Dawn Temple - Moonlight and Mistletoe

Kyle bit down on the corner of his lip to keep from grinning as he brushed butter on the dough before squeezing the bread pan into the oven, along with the green beans. When he straightened, he caught his reflection in the microwave glass. A huge flour smear covered his right cheek.

He cut Shayna a glance, and she looked him dead in the eye. Devious woman. The smug expression on her beautiful face dared him to complain, so he refrained from even wiping away the mess.

The flour wasn’t the only thing he’d noticed about his appearance. Two days’ worth of stubble covered his chin, his cowlick had sprung to life and the borrowed coveralls had stretched out and now hung lifelessly off his body. Time to kick the bargain-box charity-case look.

“We’ve got about an hour before dinner. If you’ll loan me a razor, I’d like to shower and shave.”

“Uh, sure. I’ve got a spare razor upstairs.” Shayna stood, a bit thrown by the sudden shift in topic. “Be right back.”

Somewhat dazed, she headed upstairs. Was it just her, or did every conversation with that man follow a circular pattern? Why in the world did she ever encourage him to work on his social skills? Though, she had to admit, the way he’d touched her while talking had been nice.

She’d been surprised by the warmth and tenderness of his fingers as they’d wiped away her tears. And when she’d pushed against his chest, she’d been unable to erase the memory of his tight, tanned skin-skin she was dying to see again. To touch and taste and tease.

By the time she made it to her bathroom, her imagination had her heart racing like a virgin who’d just crawled into the backseat for the first time. Who knew she had such a weakness for arrogant, annoying attorneys?

Digging through the drawer next to the sink, she unearthed a spare disposable razor. She wasn’t sure what worried her worse-the sexy, clean-shaven Kyle she remembered from California or the sexy, rumpled Kyle who’d been driving her crazy all day. Both were a danger to her peace of mind.

After a quick check of her hair and a refresher on her lipstick, she ducked back into her room.

After all the fights and battles she’d witnessed in the first seven years of her life, she’d never been one for arguments and tense discussions; yet somehow, twice in two days, she’d stood her ground and emphatically disagreed with Kyle. Amazing how good, how freeing, it felt to speak her piece and not back down from her opinions.

Maybe she’d simply been waiting all these years for an issue important enough to make her step out of her comfort zone. Or maybe Kyle’s “don’t take it personally” attitude provided the safety net she’d always been lacking. Whatever the reason, it was nice to know the world wouldn’t end if Shayna Miller asserted herself.

Even so, she was smart enough to realize a couple of vocal exchanges hadn’t changed anything. Neither she nor Kyle intended to budge on the issues. She did have to admit, though, calming down and having Chester Warfield-the attorney who’d handled Daddy’s will-review Walker’s agreement was a smart idea. Not that she planned to cave, but it couldn’t hurt to know all her options.

Even though she’d been very young when she’d lived with Patty, she’d never forget the whiplash lifestyle created by her mother’s constant moneymaking schemes. The woman had constantly ranted about money, about how being rich was the key to being happy. Of course, even when she managed to get her hands on some cash, Patty was never happy. And neither was Shayna.

Not until she and James had moved to Land’s Cross. They’d never had much money, but they’d always been happy. He and Papa Joe had taught her that love and peace, family and friends, were more valuable than money.

How could she allow Walker or Patty or even Kyle to twist the past and paint James Miller as a criminal?

She imagined that at first no one would really care that he hadn’t been her natural father, but once the facts became clear, that he’d never legally adopted her, that he wasn’t even her stepfather, then things would get murky.

Folks who had known them for nearly twenty years would begin to question everything. All his accomplishments, all the good he’d done for this community, the kids he’d mentored, everything would be overshadowed by the cloud of suspicion.

Amidst all that worry and confusion, would she be able to make people see that he’d been a decent, honorable man all his life, that when most people would have walked away, he stepped up and saved her?

Her heart insisted that, yes, the people who mattered would understand. But her mind was harder to convince.

The kitchen smelled like a dream. To honor the scrumptious meal Kyle had created from nothing, Shayna dug out a linen tablecloth and the good dishes, which hadn’t seen the light of day in seven years. After arranging two place settings, she added a couple candles and a clutch of black-eyed Susans rescued from the frozen flower beds.

The overall effect was beautiful and festive. And romantic. She nibbled her lower lip. This was not good. The last thing she needed was more temptation.

She scooped her hair out of the danger zone and leaned forward to blow out the candles, but the sound of footsteps in the den froze her lips in midpucker. If she extinguished the flames now, he’d know about her second thoughts. Hating the idea of exposing indecision to such a decisive man, Shayna pinned on what she hoped was a gracious hostess expression.

When he rounded the corner and came into view, her breath lodged in her throat. Man, oh man. He looked as good as dinner smelled.

He was fresh from the shower, with his wet hair looking a few shades darker than normal and combed back from his face. The bump on his forehead was barely noticeable. His jaw looked as smooth as a plump, ripe plum. Yummy.

The coveralls were gone, replaced by the suit she would have bet money had been ruined. The shirt, looking suspiciously as if he’d hunted up her iron and put it to good use, was open at the neck and untucked over his trousers, which appeared an inch or so shorter than the last time she’d seen them. His feet were bare. Goodness, the man even had sexy feet. Too unfair.

Searching for her voice, Shayna ran her tongue over her lips. “Nice.” She mimicked his earlier compliment, hoping it pleased him as much as it had pleased her.

“Thanks.” He nodded at the festive table. “Looks great.”

“After all your hard work, it would have been a sin to eat on paper plates.” Thankful her voice and her brainpower had kicked back in, she waved a hand toward the table. “I wasn’t sure about the candles, but in this house, real food is cause for celebration.”

“I bet.” He laughed softly as he squeezed into the kitchen and cracked open the oven. “The bread’s done.”

As they worked together to get the food on the table, a relaxed, easy camaraderie grew between them. She guessed she wasn’t the only one who’d come to dinner determined to put aside their disagreements and enjoy a pleasant evening.

She popped the cork on the wine she had bought to take to Lindy’s and poured them each a glass. Kyle held her chair then took the seat adjacent to hers and lifted his glass. “A toast.” He paused while she followed suit. “To good food, good company and no shoptalk.”

“Amen,” she agreed, clinking her glass gently against his.

For several minutes the conversation stopped as they fixed their plates and savored those first few bites.

“Kyle, this is amazing. Talk about missing your calling.”

“I actually considered going to culinary school at one point.”

“But you were too hungry for all that money and power, right?”