Status Updates From Christmas Knight: A Holiday...

He tasted of promises this time, she thought as she leaned to kiss him, Christmas promises and an amazing future of love and happiness. “We’re as good as this Christmas has been,” she said, her gaze clear as she met the soft gray of his eyes. “In fact, we’re lovely, entirely lovely.”

Jake seemed uncomfortable with what had taken place between them underneath the Christmas tree, almost as if he’d like to forget it. She’d waited for him to say something, do something to build on it. Yet beyond an odd look in his eyes now and then when they rested on her, it was as if it had never happened.

Donna squeezed her eyes shut while stifling a moan. She could not believe what had happened. Yes, Jake had been falling. And yes, she’d tried to help him regain his balance. But grabbing his backside with both hands was easily the most embarrassing thing she’d ever done in her life. If he had any inkling whatever of the past that lay between them, he must think she was throwing herself at him. Again.

He wanted her, and it wasn’t some piddling, nonspecific urge brought on by a pretty face and nice body. He wanted Donna and no one else, needed her with an ache that had been with him for years, one that invaded his dreams and made him take on jobs and responsibilities he knew he’d probably regret. Letting Donna go now was the hardest thing he’d done in his life. Well, the second hardest.

As he stood there, his roller stopped moving. He couldn’t look away from her, couldn’t get enough oxygen into his lungs though he continued to breathe. His blood fizzed in his veins, bubbling around his heart. He thought he’d never seen such a beautifully shaped mouth in all his thirty-something years. Long seconds passed before he came to his senses.

What might not be all right was working closely with Jake Benedict. That she was the only one who remembered the humiliation of those few minutes spent with him years ago could be a good thing. With any luck, she might make it through the coming days without him recalling anything about it, much less mentioning it. The problem was that her luck had never been reliable.

“A prickly thing, aren’t you?” Her glance was assessing but calm. “I get that way when people call me a thief.” “Happens often, does it?” She’d walked into that one. Her lips firmed, but she refused to be drawn into another acrimonious exchange. He watched her for a long moment. “Sorry. I guess I should be thanking you for your help. I appreciate it, even if you did ruin my best jeans.”

Her breathing kicked up a notch, even as she wondered why he was introducing himself. A woman didn’t forget the first boy she’d ever kissed, or one who’d broken her young heart. He wasn’t a boy any longer. A small shiver of remembrance and internal recognition shook her. She banished it with a lift of her chin. “I thought this was the old Bascom place.” “Wrong. I bought it back in the summer.”