Lori Wilde - Mistletoe & Mayhem

Jodie resented the idea that, just because there was now a man about the house, he would be the one to nab Billy. It struck her how much she really wanted to be the one to turn Billy over to the authorities. How much she didn’t want Shane to beat her to it.

Her eyes widened at the thought. Where had it come from? She’d never before thought of herself as the type of woman who had to compete with a man. And she wasn’t. There were plenty of reasons why she wanted to be the one to turn Billy Rutherford over to the police—and they had nothing to do with Shane Sullivan. In fact, she was going to put him out of her mind.

Just then a car pulled into the driveway and the headlights pinned her. Shane. She could just make out the red convertible in the moonlight. The urge to get up and run was almost overpowering, but she couldn’t bear the idea of him getting that look of amusement in his eyes at her expense. It wasn’t until he parked the car that she noticed the top was down and Lazarus was sitting in the passenger seat.

Lazarus, the dog who could barely get himself out of a prone position except to eat? And who in the world rode around with the top down in the middle of winter? She was still staring as the man and the dog started toward her.

“How did you bribe him to go with you?” she asked when Lazarus plopped his head into her lap.

“He followed me to the car,” Shane said.

“You never follow me to my car,” she said, leaning closer to scratch the dog behind his ears. “And I pay your vet bills.”

“Evidently, he prefers convertibles. There’s no accounting for taste.”

Jodie glanced up at him. “It’s a taste for French fries that lured him into your car. I can smell them on his breath.”

Shane grinned at her. “What can I say? We were hungry.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How can you be? You ate two slices of Irene’s meat loaf. I saw you.”

“It’s nice to know I’m not losing my touch.”

Jodie’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“You only think you saw me eat two slices.”

She studied him for a moment, intrigued. “What did you do with them? I know you didn’t feed them to Lazarus. He draws the line at Irene’s cooking.”

“A little sleight of hand,” Shane explained. “I worked my way through college as a weekend party magician.”

“You did not!” Jodie said.

He raised a hand. “Scout’s honor.”

“You weren’t a Boy Scout, either.”

His smile widened. “No, but I really was a party magician.” Before she could move, he reached behind her ear and when he withdrew his hand, it was holding a French fry.

“How did you—” The scent of it had her mouth watering.

“Here,” he offered.

She hesitated for only a minute. “Thanks,” she said as she popped it into her mouth, then chewed slowly. Even cool and slightly soggy, it tasted wonderful.

“More?” he asked bringing a paper bag out from behind his back. “Lazarus indicated you preferred cheeseburgers.”

She had reached for the bag before she could stop herself. But she didn’t open it. “Dogs don’t talk, and magicians don’t really make things disappear. Where did you put the meat loaf?”

“Where you put yours—in the plant stand.”

“You saw me?”

“Magicians are always looking for new tricks. Sophie ditched hers under her jacket.”

Jodie couldn’t prevent a laugh. Then tilting her head to one side, she studied the man standing in front of her. Though the moonlight was bright, it left his face shadowed, mysterious-looking. In another age, he could have been a powerful magician. A wizard, perhaps. Fascination warred with caution. She really didn’t know anything about Shane Sullivan, she reminded herself.

Then she recalled the look on Irene’s face when he’d taken that second slice of meat loaf, and in spite of her resolve, she felt something inside of her soften.

Just then her stomach growled.

“I think you better eat that cheeseburger,” he said.

“Irene and Sophie were still up when I came out here. I don’t want—”

“No, don’t turn around,” he cautioned. “They’re watching us right now through the window.”

“They…Do you think they saw the cheeseburger?”

“No. I think they’re more interested in whether or not the mistletoe you’re sitting under will work.”

She glanced up, then back at Shane.

“It had to happen sooner or later. They pretty much had me booby-trap the whole house today.”

Jodie felt the heat flood her face. “You think they want you…they want us to…”

“I think they feel guilty about introducing you to their nephew, but they’re not willing to give up on matchmaking altogether.”

The moment his hand closed around hers and drew her to her feet, something began to tighten in her center. Her gaze dropped to his mouth. He was going to kiss her. The heat in her cheeks suddenly burned through the rest of her body.

“So why don’t you show me how to get down to the lake? Hank Jefferson says the ice fishing is very good, and I have a flashlight in the car.”

He released her hand and turned away, but it was several seconds before she could make her feet follow after him. He’d had no intention of kissing her, yet for a moment, she’d wanted more than anything for him to do just that. She had to get a grip on herself. She had to…stop looking at him. Shifting her gaze to the car, she said, “You put the top down.”

“It’s one of the unwritten rules when you own a convertible,” Shane said, extracting a flashlight from the trunk.

“But no one puts their top down in the middle of winter.”

“Not true. Santa always has the top down on his sleigh.”

Jodie laughed as she turned and led the way around the side of the house. “Okay. I guess I never thought of it that way.”

Falling into step beside her, Shane said, “Lazarus isn’t coming with us.”

“He doesn’t believe in exercise.”

A few seconds later, Shane pointed his flashlight down a path that wound its way through the trees, and for a while they walked in silence.

“The Rutherford sisters are really into celebrating Christmas,” Shane said as the trees pressed closer, blocking out the moonlight.

“Tell me about it.”

“You’re not quite as enthused, I take it?”

She shrugged. “Not the way most people seem to be.”

“Rough childhood?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just always used to wish for one thing—that my father would be home on Christmas morning.”

“Was he?” Shane asked, taking her arm as the path narrowed.

“Usually not. He’d always send a really wonderful gift and a note saying how much he missed us. But it wasn’t the same.”

“No.”

Jodie glanced at him, but she couldn’t tell anything from his expression. “I must sound ungrateful. Sheriff Dillon said that you don’t have any family to spend Christmas with.”

“That puts us in the same boat this year. And it has to be especially rough for you—losing your house.”

“Actually, the hardest thing about it was facing the fact that I’d been so stupid about believing Billy.” She paused and glanced at Shane again. “I’m not sure how to explain it. That house meant everything to my mother. She needed the security. But to my father it was a prison. He could never stand to be in it for very long.”

“He felt the lure of the open road,” Shane said.

“Exactly. And I would have done almost anything to go with him.”

“Yes.”

She could hear the understanding in his voice. It prompted her to go on. “My mother would never agree. She said I couldn’t until I finished school. Then he went off one day and didn’t came back. When we got the news of his death, she never left the house again. She simply pined away until the day she died. Having the bank take the house over gave me a chance to get away from those memories. The day I moved out, I felt…”