Lori Wilde - Mistletoe & Mayhem

It had to be Billy. Shane wouldn’t be trying to get away. In the time it took her to decide, the man had swung both legs over the sill and was gone. Jodie raced toward him.

Suddenly, there was a zinging sound, as if the string on a guitar had snapped. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the other man suddenly pitch to the floor.

“What the—” Shane ended the thought in a grunt as he shot feetfirst toward the ceiling.

It occurred to her that it was just as she’d visualized it, then she threw herself at the other man who was halfway out the window.

“Stop.” She grabbed at his arm as he reached for a tree limb. A shove sent her reeling into the eaves. As she scrambled to her feet, she saw Shane begin to swing forward, but the man was out of his reach when the rope pulled him back. She made it to the window in time to grab a foot. A mistake, she thought as it kicked her to the floor.

The rafters creaked ominously as she once more lunged toward the window. Leaning out, she saw the man, climbing along the limb of the maple tree. She threw one leg over the sill and leaned forward, reaching. A few more inches and…teetering, she stretched more and grabbed air just as a pair of hands clamped around her waist and jerked her back into the attic.

“Let me go. I can—”

“What? Break your neck?”

“I won’t.” She twisted one way, then another, but the hands gripping her were like a steel vise.

“You damn near toppled out that window.”

“I almost had him. I can still…” Desperate, she tried to pry Shane’s fingers loose. He relaxed his hold just enough to turn her around so she faced him. Jodie found that, even though he was hanging upside down, she was looking almost directly into his eyes. “Will you please let me go? He’s getting away.”

“Thanks to you. I’d have had him in handcuffs right now if you hadn’t interrupted.”

“I didn’t interrupt. You interfered. If you hadn’t, he’d have been swinging from his feet now instead of you.”

“Let’s postpone the debate until you get me down from this thing.”

She tried backing away. His grip on her tightened. “I’ll come back just as soon—”

“Forget it. Until you cut me loose, we’re Siamese twins.”

They might as well have been. They were so close, Jodie could feel his breath on her cheek and see the glint of anger in his eyes. But it wasn’t fear that arrowed down her spine as her gaze moved to his mouth. All she could do was think—if he kissed her now, his lips wouldn’t be soft and gentle as they had been down at the lake. And they wouldn’t be patient. They would be demanding, hot and potent.

She felt his hands grow tighter, felt her own desire curl tight within her. But she wasn’t going to kiss Shane Sullivan again. She couldn’t. It wasn’t possible to kiss a man while he was hanging upside down. Was it?

Perhaps, if he angled his head just right, and she angled hers…

Light flooded the attic. Footsteps thundered up the stairs.

“Jodie, are you all right?” Sophie led the way. Both she and Irene held their pokers at the ready as they crested the top of the attic steps.

“Good girl. Caught our prowler, I see,” Sophie said, but she stopped short when she caught a glimpse of Shane. “You’re not our prowler.” She glanced at Jodie. “Let’s get him down. Did Clyde show you how to unspring this thing or should I go back downstairs and get a knife?”

“There’s a lever,” Jodie said and decided to ignore the fact that Shane didn’t release her as she walked toward it. The distrust between them was obviously mutual, and that suited her just fine.

“Brace yourself,” she said as she threw the release lever. His grunt as he landed on the floor gave her some satisfaction. But the grin he shot her as the two ladies rushed to fuss over him cut it short. Sophie held one of his arms, Irene the other, as Shane rose to his feet.

“Are you all right?” Irene asked. “I knew that thingamajig wasn’t going to work right.”

“It worked fine,” Jodie said. “If Shane hadn’t interfered, I’d have caught our prowler.”

“There was a prowler then,” Sophie said. “I knew I saw someone climbing down that old maple tree in the backyard.”

“That’s how he got in, too,” Shane said. “When I saw him start up, I used the key you ladies gave me. I thought I’d have a better chance of getting him if I came up here.”

“Good thinking,” Sophie said.

“Except that it cost us our prowler,” Jodie pointed out.

Shane shrugged. “I would have had him if you hadn’t interrupted.”

Jodie strode forward until they were standing toe-to-toe. “I didn’t interrupt. You interfered.”

“Instead of arguing, the two of you ought to team up. That way you won’t get in each other’s way,” Sophie said. “Right now, I think we’d better go downstairs and inform Sheriff Dillon we’ve had another break-in.”

“And I’ll make some of my famous hot chocolate. It’s just the thing to calm everyone’s nerves,” Irene said, leading the way down the stairs.

“One taste and you’ll wish we left you hanging,” Jodie predicted in a low tone as she slipped past Shane and caught up with the two older women.

SHANE LEANED BACK in his chair and let the conversation hum around him. Across the length of the kitchen table, Dillon was jotting down information in his notebook. But no matter how cleverly or persistently the sheriff asked the question, no one was willing to say that the prowler in the attic had definitely been Billy Rutherford.

When it came right down to it, Shane wasn’t certain himself. Thanks to the darkness and the fact that he’d been occupied dodging fists, he hadn’t gotten a good look at the man’s face.

Shane shifted his gaze to Jodie. Had she gotten a better look? She said not, and she could be telling the truth. In his mind, he could still picture her stretching out that window, still feel the fear that had twisted in his gut when he’d grabbed her and found that she was already more than halfway out, teetering. If he’d been a second later…Quickly, he pushed the image out of his mind and reminded himself that she’d had the full benefit of the moonlight while she was at the window. He studied her in the harsh, overhead glow of the kitchen light. Could anyone look that innocent and still be a liar? Part of him wanted to say yes. But there was another part of him…His gaze dropped to her mouth. It was soft, unpainted. She was sitting three feet away from him and he could almost taste her. Desire crept through him, leaving a dull ache in its wake.

He wanted her, and it was interfering with his judgment. The only thing he should be thinking about was whether or not Jodie had gotten a good look at the intruder. And if she had, was she lying to protect Billy Rutherford?

Deliberately, Shane shifted his gaze to Dillon. His best guess was that the sheriff wasn’t sure about that, either. Otherwise the man would have beat a hasty retreat the moment he’d sampled Irene’s special hot chocolate.

It was “special” all right. Her secret recipe had all the flavor of warmed-up mud. Lazarus had taken one sniff of the sample she’d poured into his dish and all but loped out of the room. Shane glanced down at his own full mug. In a minute he’d have to take another drink. His excuse that it was too hot was wearing thin. There wasn’t a plant in sight, and there was no way to tip it up his sleeve since he was wearing a sweater.

When his gaze collided with Jodie’s, he saw the amusement as well as the challenge. She raised her mug in a mock salute.

He reached for his, gripping the handle carefully as he lifted it. Then suddenly, he winced and the mug slipped through his fingers, spilling its contents as it rolled to the edge of the table and dropped to the floor. In the time it took him to grip his shoulder with his free hand, he read the expressions of everyone in the room. Jodie’s was a mixture of admiration and envy, Dillon’s was one of surprise, but the ladies’ eyes were filled with worry and concern. He rubbed his shoulder, wincing again. “Sorry. I must have landed harder than I thought.”