Laurie Paige - Christmas Kisses For A Dollar

Fragile, delicate little Anne, who mustn’t become overexcited, overheated, overjoyed. Poor Anne, who’d fainted when the captain of the football team had given her a smothering kiss one time. She’d been fifteen. It had been her last date while in high school. All the guys had been afraid she’d have heart failure and her aunt would kill them because of it.

Her mother’s heart had given out during childbirth. Two cousins had died from weak hearts almost at birth. She had a heart murmur, which wasn’t terribly serious in itself, but it was an indication of the family trait.

She wouldn’t pass it on to her children. To force them into a restricted life when all the world was there to be discovered, to watch them die before they’d hardly lived, to see them fall in love, marry, then die before their children had a chance to know them the way her own mother had? No, she simply wouldn’t, couldn’t do it.

But sometimes she thought of the possibilities.…

She stifled the regret. She’d learned long ago to be stoic about life, to laugh at its foibles before it laughed at hers.

She gave her companion a mocking smile. “My heart always beats fast when I’m being accosted.”

He stood, putting a couple of feet between them. His gaze licked over her like fire. “Accosted?” He gave a snort of laughter and his lashes dropped to dangerous levels over his eyes. “I’ve hardly begun. How about some lunch? The hot dogs at the bazaar looked pretty appetizing.”

She blinked at the change in topic. “Why should I want to spend my time with a known criminal?”

“I paid good money for that kiss. I didn’t steal it,” he reminded her, his mouth turning up attractively at the corners. He thrust his hands in his back pockets and rocked back on the heels of his scuffed boots as he watched her.

“I was speaking of your assault.” She stood and slipped her sandals back on. “Yes, lunch would be fine. My aunt and uncle must have heard about the kiss by now. It will reassure everyone to see me whole and well. Also, it might save you from getting beaten up by my more ardent protectors if we’re seen together.”

This time he blinked in confusion as she jumped from subject to subject with no pause. She grinned at him.

He lifted her left hand. “Those ardent pals of yours haven’t put a ring on your finger.”

“How observant of you,” she murmured, pulling away and running her fingers through her hair to smooth the heavy waves into place. She felt vibrantly alive, she realized. Strong and eager for life. She cast a wary eye on her companion, wondering what it was about him that affected her so.

“Let’s go.” He took her arm. “Don’t you lock up?” he asked when they went out on the porch.

“Not during the day. What would be the point? Everyone knows I hide the key over the door.”

He gave her a sardonic glance. “Is the whole town as trusting as you?”

“I’m not trusting,” she shot right back. “If thieves want anything I’ve got, they’ll get in anyway. If the door’s open, they can go right in without breaking anything. See? It’s simple logic.”

“I have a feeling nothing is going to be simple about our relationship.”

She cast him a startled glance from under her lashes. Again a vision of the future came to her—of her running across a field with this man, holding hands and laughing, a child and a dog running ahead of them…

Retreating to sober reality, she realized he not only disturbed her heart, he sent her dreams into a tailspin. She didn’t understand it.

“We don’t have a relationship,” she stated.

“We will,” he declared.

“Would it be rude to ask your name?” Anne asked. She placed the two cups of cola on the table. The cups, one red, the other green, heralded the season’s colors.

Her companion put the hot dogs and curly fries, seasoned with Tex-Mex spices, on the table beside the drinks. “Jonathan Sinclair—Jon to my friends.” He smiled as if at some secret thought while he pulled out a chair and held it for her.

“Sinclair? As in Sinclair Ranch?”

“Right.”

Instead of sitting, she held out her hand. “Anne Hyden, as in the Flower Garden.”

He shook her hand, then held it as he asked, “Should this mean something to me?”

“I’m one of your customers. In fact, I have a big order in for Christmas. That’s only a little over three weeks away,” she reminded him. “It is going to be ready, isn’t it?”

He had no idea. “Would I let one of my best customers down?” He sincerely hoped not. That might delay, although not impede, the relationship between them.

“It’s been known to happen,” she said wryly. She took her seat. He sat opposite her.

She bit into her hot dog. He did the same. She tried to keep her eyes off him, but it was difficult. He had no such qualms. He stared at her, an gleam of intrigue in his eyes, as they ate. A man to watch out for, she decided. A man who could be dangerous to a woman’s heart.

“So you own a flower shop,” he said when he finished.

“Yes. It was a dream come true to be able to buy it when the owner retired.” She’d had to fight her aunt every step of the way, right up to the final closing. She licked a smear of mustard off her lips.

“I’d like to do that for you,” he murmured, his gaze glued to her mouth.

She wiped her lips with a napkin. “You’re disconcerting.”

“Do I make you nervous?”

More than that. He conjured up old dreams of forbidden things as a magician conjured up a hatful of Texas-size rabbits. “Yes. You’re rather unpredictable.”

“I’m not dangerous…only fascinated.”

“Do you always come on this strong?”

Jon wondered about that, too. It was unusual for him. Her forthright manner put him at ease. “Only when I know it’s going to be stupendous.”

“What?” She brushed her hair away from her face, another nervous gesture, he surmised.

“Our coming together.” He realized that could be taken more than one way and grinned when she fidgeted with her hair. He did make her nervous. It wasn’t a tenth of what she did to him. He could hardly wait to show her. But first…

“I’m not a marrying man,” he told her bluntly and watched to see how she’d take it.

“Has anyone ever asked you?” she inquired with only a token of polite interest after the briefest of pauses.

A surprised second ticked past. He threw back his head and laughed in delight. “This is going to be fun.”

“The chase or the seduction?” The imp danced in her eyes as she looked him over as an old-maid schoolmarm might.

“Both,” he promised, meaning it. He hooked an arm over the chair and pushed it onto the two back legs while he watched the thoughts dart through her eyes. He wished he could read them. She was an interesting woman.

“Oh-oh,” she said sotto voce. “Here come my relatives.”

He glanced over his shoulder. A man in a lightweight suit, a blue shirt and striped tie came toward them. The woman beside him wore a beige lace dress. They seemed to be dressed for a formal wedding rather than a bazaar. They were around fifty, a handsome couple actually, the man a tad thin, the woman a tad plump, but both energetic and healthy-looking.

He got to his feet when they approached the table.

Anne introduced them before they could speak. “My aunt and uncle, Marge and Joseph Pauly. Uncle Joe is the mayor. Aunt Marge is on the city council. She opposed him on a land-use tax and got elected. This is Jon Sinclair.”

“Marge. Joe. Glad to meet you.” Jon shook hands with them. He felt like a suitor on display as they looked him over.

As on the tax issue, he realized they had assessed him and come up on opposite sides. The mayor smiled benevolently; the councilwoman smiled coldly, disapproval in her eyes—which were the same intriguing blue as her niece’s.