Dawn Temple - Moonlight and Mistletoe

“Don’t I know it.” He jostled the tray, resting it on one leg. “You plan on reprising your role for the parade this Saturday?”

The parade gig came as a complete surprise. “I haven’t been asked.”

Robertson jerked a shoulder. “Shayna’s probably waiting to see if Elmer’s back heals. She’d hate to insult him by assuming he wouldn’t be up to the task.”

“Probably so,” Kyle agreed, not believing the excuse for a second. More likely, she wanted Kyle gone badly enough to resume her Santa search from scratch.

Danny stood and extended his free hand. “Well, thanks again, man.”

Kyle accepted the handshake. “No problem.”

Robertson left and the waitress, Millie according to her name badge, returned, carrying his coffee and a newspaper tucked under her one arm. “What can I get ’cha, hon?” Millie asked absently, her gaze focused out the big glass window.

All he really wanted was the coffee, but since he didn’t have anything else to do, he ordered blueberry pancakes and a large glass of milk.

“Anything else?” Millie asked, finally dragging her eyes back inside. “Oh, hey! You’re the guy from the paper.” She unfolded the paper she carried and opened it to the front page. “See?”

He focused on the five-by-seven full color photo of himself and Shayna. She looked incredibly sexy. He, on the other hand, looked tortured. Just remembering the feel of her in his lap had him tightening. She’d rubbed all those supple curves against him until he’d been highly unfit to be in a room full of kids.

“Yep, that’s me. Can I keep this?”

“Sure thing, hon.” A bell dinged on the counter, and Millie excused herself. Kyle didn’t bother looking up from the paper.

The caption under their picture proclaimed, “Holiday Couple Brings New Spark to Festival Traditions.” He couldn’t help but chuckle. Bet Shayna hated that.

He quickly scanned the attached article and noticed that the reporter was also a big fan of Shayna. She was named as the driving force behind what was being hailed as the most successful pageant in recent history. Proudly, he noted that the Santa photo booth earned a record fourteen hundred dollars.

Wow. He knew he’d listened to a boatload of Christmas wishes, but he’d had no clue that he’d helped to raise so much money for the foster kids.

He took a slurp of coffee before thumbing through the rest of the paper. Bowling scores, birth announcements and school lunch menus. It was a small glimpse into the peaceful, slow-paced life of a small community.

On page four, he finally stumbled across actual news. The road repair at McGuffy’s sinkhole was scheduled to begin at the first of next year. Damage from the recent ice storm had closed the skating rink until further notice. The bottom half of the page was dedicated to the youth center ground breaking.

There was an old yearbook picture of Coach Miller, along with a touching and well-written story on his years of service to the school district, highlighting his emphasis on education-he’d also been a history teacher-as well as athletics.

A photo from the ceremony showed Shayna at the podium. The grainy newsprint couldn’t hide the glimmer of tears in her eyes or the pride in her smile. She’d looked so spectacular with that green sweater hugging her body, her hair stirring in the breeze.

When he’d first seen her, he’d wondered if the combination of strength and vulnerability had been part of an act, at that point still unsure if she’d been a party to Patty’s threats. Those past suspicions sent a wave of greasy self-disgust through his gut. He knew now that Shayna Miller was the antithesis of her scheming mother.

A third photo showed Shayna and a handful of others-among them the mayor and Lindy and Travis Monroe-standing in front of a shiny white ten-passenger van with James Miller Youth Center stenciled across the side. His sixth sense tingled as he read the article. By the time he got to the third paragraph, the veins in his neck were throbbing.

‘Reliable transportation is key to several outreach programs we hope to begin instituting immediately,’ reported recently appointed Center Director Shayna Miller, who donated the ten-passenger van in her father’s name.

The rest of the article disappeared in a blur of disbelief. Holy hell! Did that woman have any money sense at all?

As part of his background work on this case, he’d investigated Shayna’s financial situation. It was bleak. She had no retirement plan, only three thousand dollars in her savings account and her monthly income was barely more than his rent. So what the hell was she doing donating a fifty-thousand dollar van to the youth center while her own car looked like it should be pushed off the mountain and put out of its misery?

Coffee and food forgotten, he folded the paper and stood. He tossed a twenty on the table and stalked out of the noisy diner.

Damned woman was living mere inches from the poverty line. How could she possibly justify spending money she didn’t have on a van she didn’t even intend to keep for herself?

She was threatening all he’d worked for on sheer stubbornness. He hated the idea of her doing without when a viable solution was well within her grasp.

Walker’s money was her birthright. She deserved it. She needed it. And she was damned well going to swallow her pride and accept it.

The quiet of the empty Knights of Columbus Hall helped soothe Shayna’s anger at herself, but her frustration still raged. Her lawyer, Chester Warfield, had headed out to the deer camp with his son and two grandsons this morning at first light. His secretary had regretfully informed her he wouldn’t be back in town until late Thursday and was scheduled to be in court Friday morning. Shayna begged for, and got, an appointment Friday afternoon.

If she’d called last night like she’d intended, she wouldn’t be in such a pickle.

Instead, she’d driven home, navigating more by habit than attention, and spent the night recalling Kyle’s beyond-fantastic kisses, lecturing herself about all the sound, logical reasons to be glad he hadn’t pressed for an invitation to her bed.

Then of course, all the sensational, emotional reasons why having him in her bed was a terrific idea had surfaced. That line of thinking conjured up all manner of lusty thoughts, which had fueled some impressively erotic dreams.

Not surprisingly, this morning she was a confused ball of hot hormones and mixed emotions. Figuring it best to steer clear of him until she’d made a decision about Walker’s agreement, she was holed up, inventorying the donated toys so she could decide how best to spend the cash contributions. Three-thousand four hundred sixty-two dollars and seventeen cents-a new record, helped considerably by the five crisp one-hundred dollar bills found at the bottom of the bucket. Put there by a certain Hollywood lawyer.

Knowing that Kyle was the surprise benefactor only upped his yumminess. If she didn’t uncover a few negatives soon, she’d be a goner for sure.

Last night, when she and Kyle had unloaded the truck, she’d been too frazzled by his kisses to worry much about organizing the toys, so the first order of business was to divide the goodies by gender and age. By the time she had everything separated, she’d worked up a light sweat, so she peeled off her jogging suit’s zippered jacket. More comfortable in the cooler tank top she wore underneath, she plopped onto the floor, notebook in hand, and began her shopping list.

She’d become so attuned to the building’s silence that the unexpected pounding on the rear service door startled her so badly she broke her pencil in half. Alarmed, she raced to the back door. Several strands of hair escaped her clip as she ran.