Leanne Banks - A Maverick for Christmas

“Yes, you,” she said. “You’re always trying to stay in the background, but here you go again saving the day.”

“What do you mean?” he asked as he started the car.

“I mean you’re always rescuing somebody. It’s just what you do. White Knight syndrome?”

He looked at her for a long moment with an expression on his face that made her breath stop in her chest. He looked at her as if he were seeing her as more than Laila’s little sister. “I didn’t think anyone noticed,” he finally said.

“Of course I notice,” she managed in a voice that sounded breathless to her own ears.

He glanced away and put the car in gear, driving toward her home. Abby was torn between relief and disappointment. She had wanted that sliver of a moment to continue, yet she could breathe a little better now.

“Is that an official diagnosis? White Knight syndrome?” he asked, his mouth lifting in a half grin of amusement.

“No. I don’t think you’re clinically maladjusted. You’re just a good man,” she said, although good was putting it lightly. Cade was much more than a good man.

He glanced at her and chuckled. “Thank you. I feel better.”

“That will be five dollars,” she said and laughed at his sideways glance at her. “Just kidding. I’m not licensed to practice.”

They approached her street and her stomach knotted. She tried to think of a way to continue this special time. She didn’t want it to end. “I always thought that was strange. A doctor practices medicine. An attorney practices law. What if they have a lousy day practicing?”

Cade pulled the car to a slow stop and shifted into Park. “Good point. I try to avoid both if possible.”

Abby drank in the sight of him, meeting his watchful blue gaze and noting the vapor of his breath from his mouth. His strong chin matched his character and determination and his broad shoulders had always made her think he could carry anything life threw at him. He’d suffered some deep losses. She knew that beneath that sheepskin jacket, his muscles were well developed from the times he’d played touch football with her extended family in the backyard.

She knew a lot about him, but she wanted to know so much more. She wanted to slide underneath that jacket and feel him against her. Maybe it was time to take a chance. A crazy chance. Her heart raced so fast she felt lightheaded.

“I’ve always liked your eyes,” she said in a low voice.

His gaze widened in surprise. “What?”

“I’ve always liked your eyes,” she repeated. “They say so much about you. You have this combination of strength and compassion and the first place you see it is in your eyes.” She bit her lip then leaned closer to him. “Of course, the rest of you isn’t bad, either.”

“It’s not?” he echoed. She saw a lot of curiosity and flickers of sensuality in his gaze.

“Not bad at all,” she said, sliding her hand up the front of his jacket. Taking her courage in her hand, she tugged at his jacket to bring his head closer to hers. Then she pressed her mouth against his, relishing the sensation of his closeness and his lips meshed with hers. He rubbed his mouth against hers and she suddenly felt his hand at her back, drawing her breasts against his chest.

His response sent a flash of electricity throughout her and she opened her lips to deepen the kiss. He took advantage, sliding his tongue inside her. Craving more, she gave what she knew he was asking. Despite the cold temperature, she felt herself grow warmer with every passing second of his caress. Warm enough to strip off her coat and…

Cade suddenly pulled his mouth from hers and stared at her in shock. “What the—” He shook his head and swore, taking a giant step away from her. “I’m sorry.” He swore again. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“But you didn’t start it,” she said, her heart sinking at his response.

He held up his hands. “No, really. I shouldn’t—” He cleared his throat. “You go on home, now. I’ll watch from here.”

“But, Cade—”

“Go inside, Abby,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument.

Still tempted to argue, Abby had pushed her courage as far as it would go tonight. She swung away from him, hopped out of the car and slammed the door behind her. Striding home, she was caught between euphoria and despair. He had kissed her back and he sure seemed to like it. For those few seconds, he had treated her like a woman he desired. This time she hadn’t imagined the way he tasted, the way his lips felt against hers, his hand at her back, urging her closer. This time, it had been real.

But then the man had apologized for kissing her. The knowledge made her want to scream in frustration. Was she back where she’d started? Was she back to being Laila’s little sister?

Cade would have mainlined his third cup of coffee after lunch if it had been possible. He hadn’t slept well last night and had felt off all day. He stripped another screw for the designer desk he was making for an entertainment hotshot in L.A., and swore under his breath.

His father and partner, Hank, was talking, but Cade was trying to focus on the desk instead of the way Laila’s sister had kissed him last night. And worse yet, he thought, closing his eyes in deep regret, the way he’d kissed her back.

Cade tried to shake off the thoughts and images that had been tormenting him since he’d apologized and burned rubber back to his house. Thoughts about her had haunted him. Her wide brown eyes, her silky, long brown hair and her ruby lips swollen from the friction of his mouth against hers. His own lips burned with the memory, and he rubbed the back of his hand against them, trying to rub away the visual and the guilt. What the hell had he been thinking?

Impatience rushed through him and he grabbed a file. His mind torn in different directions, he stabbed his other hand. Pain seared through him, blood gushed from his hand. Cade swore loudly and stood.

“What are you doing, son?” his father demanded, striding toward him to take a look at Cade’s hand.

“It’s fine,” Cade said. “I’ll bandage it and it will be fine.”

“You better be up-to-date with your tetanus shot,” Hank said.

“I am,” Cade said. “I’m not that stupid.”

“Based on your performance this morning…” his father began.

“Lay off, Dad,” Cade said, looking down at the man who had taught him so much about carpentry and life, the man who’d never recovered from the death of his wife several years ago. None of them had really recovered from the death of Cade’s mother. She’d balanced her husband’s stern taskmaster nature with softness and smiles.

“Son, I don’t want to have to say this, but you need to snap out of your funk. Laila is getting married to someone else, and you’re just going to have to get used to it,” Hank said bluntly.

Shock slapped through Cade as he stared at his father. He opened his mouth to say he hadn’t been thinking about Laila then closed it. He sure as hell didn’t want to tell his father he’d been thinking about Laila’s little sister Abby.

“You bandage up that hand and go check in on the community center. They’ve requested a few things for their Thanksgiving program.”

Cade shook his head. “We don’t have time for me to go to the community center now. We have too much work.”

Hank shook his head. “Get some air, do something different. You’ll come back better than ever.”

“You know that since we’re equal partners, you can’t be giving orders,” Cade said.

Hank sighed and rolled his eyes. “Okay, consider it a request from your elderly father.”

Cade felt a twitch of amusement. His father was still a hard driver, especially in the shop. “Elderly my—”