Beneath the Mistletoe: Make-Believe Mistletoe / Christmas Bonus, Strings Attached

Had her growing attraction to him been so obvious? Was he pulling back because he didn’t want to risk sending the wrong signals—didn’t want her to think he was interested in her, too?

To be honest, that was exactly what she had started to believe. She thought there had been a spark between them—not necessarily suitable, but genuine. Maybe she had been mistaken. Or maybe she hadn’t, and he was simply being sensible in applying the brakes to an attraction that probably wouldn’t lead anywhere.

He opened the workshop door again, motioning with his flashlight for her to precede him so he could close the door behind them. “Watch your step.”

It wasn’t easy manipulating the big bag of gifts and the flashlight. Though she tried to be careful, Lucy found herself slipping once or twice on the path back to the house. Since Banner’s hands were also full, there wasn’t much he could do to help her, but he stayed close just in case. She was relieved to make it to the porch with both the gifts and herself in one piece. Banner set his load down beside the door, and she placed hers beside it.

He immediately turned to walk back down the steps. “I’ll get the rest of the stuff.”

Remembering the size of the cradle and the wooden truck and trailer rig, Lucy took a step after him. “I’ll help you.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said without looking back.

“No, really.” She moved a bit faster, the beam from her flashlight swinging in front of her. “I can carry the cradle for you.”

He half turned to face her. “Go back inside where it’s warm. I can—”

There must have been an icy patch beneath his foot. Or perhaps it was mud. Whatever, it was slippery—and Banner’s foot shot out from beneath him, his arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance.

Lucy threw herself at him, bracing him until he regained his footing. His arm went around her waist, probably an instinctive move.

After a moment Lucy asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just slipped.”

She noted that he didn’t immediately move his arm. Had the temperature risen or was it the fact that she was pressed so snugly against him that made her feel so warm? As if she didn’t know. Nor was she in any hurry to move away.

She looked up at him. Their flashlights were pointed downward, so she couldn’t really see his face. The moon gave enough illumination to show a gleam in his eyes as he gazed back down at her. And still he didn’t move.

“Um, Banner?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounded gruff.

“What are you doing?’

“Just wondering if you really do read minds—or if it was only a card trick,” he murmured.

Caught off guard, she asked blankly, “Why?”

“Because if you read minds, you would know that I’ve been wanting to do this ever since you showed up on my doorstep.”

“Do wha—”

His lips were on hers before she could complete the syllable.

The kiss didn’t last very long, barely long enough for her to note the details of the way his lips tasted, the way they felt and moved against hers. Yet she knew those details were being filed away inside her mind and that she would replay this kiss countless times in her head. Just as she knew that when the kiss ended, she would no longer be able to pretend that she was only casually interested in Banner.

She could no longer ignore the fact that his name had slipped to the top of her prospect list.

Who was she kidding? His name was the only one on her list now, even if he didn’t fit all the criteria she had once believed a man must have to be a suitable match for her.

In just over twenty-four hours, Banner had gone from total stranger to someone she wanted very much to get to know better.

Brief, but powerful—that was the way she would have described the kiss if pressed. Banner lifted his head but didn’t immediately step away, his face still close enough to hers that their breath formed a single frosty cloud between them. She cleared her throat.

“No,” she said, “I definitely did not know that was on your mind.”

“So it was a card trick.”

“Yeah. Just a trick.”

He dropped his arm and moved away, being very careful with his footing this time. “And that,” he said, “was just a kiss.”

She frowned. “Which means…?”

“Nothing.” He turned toward his workshop. “It meant nothing.”

“Banner, wait a minute—”

“I’ll get the rest of the gifts. You’d better go back inside before you freeze.”

He didn’t wait around for whatever she might have said in response.

Banner remembered his earlier suspicions that bad milk was making him behave strangely. Now he figured it had to be something much stronger affecting his behavior. What on earth had possessed him to kiss Lucy Guerin?

Sure, she was pretty, in her elfish sort of way. And, yeah, she had the most kissable lips he had ever encountered. And, okay, he liked being with her, enjoyed her unpredictability. But as for doing anything about any of that…no way.

She was a mathematics professor, for crying out loud. Even if they had anything else in common, that was enough to convince him he should stay well away from her. He could hear his father laugh at the very thought of Banner hooking up with a college professor.

Hell, Banner’s father didn’t think there was any woman alive who could put up with Banner for very long. “You’re just like my uncle Joe,” Richard Banner had said on more occasions than Banner could remember. “He never could find anyone willing to take him on, either.”

Banner had always wondered if he had married Katrina mostly to prove his father wrong about that. If so, it had been a futile effort. The marriage had been over almost as soon as it had begun.

After that disaster he’d thought maybe his father had been right, after all. Maybe Banner was too much like his reclusive, somewhat eccentric great-uncle.

Joe had never had time for social games and hadn’t known how to play them if he had wanted to. Like Banner, Joe had liked other people, but he had never known quite how to behave around them. He had confessed to Banner that he’d always felt as if he was on the outside looking in at other people’s interactions. Banner had identified strongly with that sentiment, since it was exactly the way he had always felt in his own family—or rather, families.

He had sure as hell never fit in with extremely extroverted, highly educated, compulsively inquisitive women like Lucy Guerin.

Even if he and Lucy had been getting along surprisingly well so far, they had only spent a day together. He had no doubt that she would get sick of him soon enough. Katrina sure had, and she had professed to love him. Probably the biggest problem between them had been that he simply hadn’t been capable of loving her in return.

He should never have kissed Lucy. He certainly didn’t want to give her the mistaken impression that he had anything to offer her—even if for some incomprehensible reason she would be interested.

He couldn’t say he entirely regretted it, though. Kissing Lucy had most definitely been a memorable experience.

The children were sound asleep when the presents were arranged beneath the tree. Joan was delighted with Banner’s handmade toys, assuring him that the children would love them. Bobby Ray and Pop both seemed thoroughly impressed with the truck-and-tractor rig, and Lucy was amused by how long Bobby Ray played with the backhoe.

After seeing the cradle, Miss Annie sent her husband to their borrowed bedroom to fetch her knitting bag. She pulled out a lap-size afghan crafted from a soft, cream-colored yarn and finished with fringed ends. “Put this in the cradle,” she ordered. “It’s just the right size for Tricia to tuck her dolls into.”