Mistletoe & Mayhem: Mistletoe & Mayhem / Santa's Sexy Secret

When he drew back, she stayed where she was. Not because she wanted to. More than anything, she wanted to throw her arms around him, drag his mouth back to hers so that she could reach for…whatever had seemed just out of her reach. But the messages from her brain didn’t seem to be getting to her body.

“Well, well…” he said.

She blinked and then stared at him. Well, well! That’s all he had to say? A joke from her childhood drifted through her mind as the anger brought strength to her body. Well, well—the story of two holes in the ground. With all her heart, she wished there were one nearby she could push him into. Her heart was still hammering, her breathing was still ragged, and he looked completely unmoved. At least he wasn’t laughing. If he dared, she would make do with the lake and shove him into that.

“Why did you do that?” she asked.

“It was a mistake,” Shane said.

She stared at him, appalled that she could feel tears begin to fill her eyes. She was not going to cry. She hadn’t cried in a long time. Even Billy hadn’t made her do that.

The thought gave her the strength to pull herself together. “Don’t make it again,” she said as she rose. Then she turned and moved toward the path.

The moment she did, Shane wanted to curse—her or himself, he wasn’t sure which. And he wasn’t sure why. All he was certain of was that it had been a mistake to bring her down here to the lake. In the moonlight, her skin looked as pale and delicate as the finest silk. He’d been wanting to touch it since he’d pulled that French fry from behind her ear.

But a moment ago, he’d wanted to do more than touch her, more than kiss her. For one frightening moment, his mind had drained of everything but her. He’d forgotten everything else, including his plan in bringing her down to the lake.

To find out about that damn letter.

Not only hadn’t he gotten her to talk about it, but after what had just happened, his prospects didn’t look good.

What in the world was she doing to him? Shane Sullivan always got his man. He’d never allowed a woman, any woman, to distract him before. Never.

If he wanted to catch Billy Rutherford, he was definitely going to have to find a way to handle Jodie Freemont.

But a woman had never driven him so wild with a kiss before.

It was something he thought about a long time before he followed her back to the house.

4

JODIE OPENED her eyes and sat straight up in bed. She must have dozed off. The illuminated face of the clock on her nightstand told her that it was 1:50 a.m. That meant she’d slept for twenty minutes.

What had awakened her? For a moment, she sat perfectly still and listened.

Silence, except for the scrape of a branch against her window. Out on the highway, the sound of a car grew steadily louder, then faded. A board creaked.

Every muscle in her body tightened. Where had the sound come from? Not overhead. Was someone climbing the stairs? Fear tightened her throat as seconds ticked by on her bedside clock. Finally reminding herself to breathe, she inched her way back against the headboard. She was overreacting. Old houses were always creaking. Or maybe it was a case of wishful thinking.

Jodie glanced up at the ceiling. More than anything, she wanted to catch Billy Rutherford in her snare trap. In her mind, she pictured him taking one step and another and another—then the rope whipping around his feet, jerking them out from under him and up until he was swinging back and forth—

Another board creaked. This time it was louder and she was sure it came from overhead. Excitement mixed with panic as she wrapped her arms tightly around her knees and watched her clock. The second hand swept the face slowly. One minute…a minute and a half…two minutes.

She glanced up at the ceiling. Surely the trap would make some noise when it was triggered. Or Billy would certainly make some sound as the rope ripped his feet out from under him—a gasp, a shout, a curse?

Wouldn’t there be some sound as he swung back and forth?

As if on cue, she heard a creak. Then silence. The second hand on her clock made another sweep.

Suddenly, she recalled Irene’s comment. I hope no one ends up hanging by their necks.

Jodie felt her heart jump to her throat and stick. What if she’d killed somebody? Billy?

She had to know. Slipping off the side of the bed, she raced to the door. Another creak overhead stopped her dead in her tracks, and a completely different scenario filled her mind: Billy edging his way across the attic as close to the eaves as he could get. He would only trigger the trap if he actually walked directly across the attic floor.

Whirling, Jodie hurried to the fireplace and carefully lifted the poker from its stand. Then she frowned. What in the world was she going to do with it? She wasn’t going to hit Billy Rutherford any more than she would have shot him if Hank Jefferson had sold her that gun. He might bleed. Even as she shuddered, the floor creaked again.

Straightening her shoulders, Jodie tightened her grip on the poker and whipped it in a wide circle. The great thing about a poker was that you could actually poke people with it—or at least threaten to. In her mind, she pictured Captain Hook. She would just make Billy walk across the floor to the spot where the rope would snap him up.

For a moment, Jodie stood still, visualizing her plan. Then shouldering the poker like a rifle, she walked to the door. Someone was up in the attic, and she was going to get him.

The moment she stepped into the hallway, the silence seemed to deepen. She waited for a moment, listening hard. The sound of a passing car couldn’t penetrate this far into the house.

Overhead, there was silence too. Holding her breath, she edged her way down the hallway. When she reached the door to the attic stairs, it stood wide open. Once more, her heart jumped to her throat, fluttering there like a bird. She clearly remembered closing the door before she’d gone to bed. Could Billy have climbed in through the window and avoided her trap, then snuck down the stairs? Slowly, she turned. Was he even now lurking somewhere in the shadows?

This time the creak sounded like a shot. Letting out the breath she was holding, she whirled back to the stairs. He was still in the attic. Keeping to the very edge of the steps, she climbed them one by one.

The darkness only lessened a little as she approached the top. The moonlight that managed to push its way through the grime on the windows made little headway into the gloom. Pausing on the top step, she counted to ten as she listened.

Nothing. She stepped carefully onto the attic floor, and suddenly a hand clamped over her mouth, and an arm banded around her waist, immobilizing her.

As panic streamed through her, she ordered herself to think. Billy? She had to let him know it was her. But the moment she tried to move, she felt herself gripped even more tightly against a hard, male body. Mixed with the fear was a sudden awareness of how strong those arms were, how callused those fingers. Not Billy’s soft hands, she thought. And not Billy’s scent. Suddenly the memory of what had happened earlier at the lake flooded through her. She recalled Shane’s hand resting along the side of her face, Shane’s mouth pressed lightly but firmly against hers until she couldn’t think of anything, anyone but…It was Shane!

“The window.” The words were barely a breath in her ear.

Narrowing her eyes, she peered through the gloom. Something seemed to be blocking what little light she’d noticed before. Wood scraped against wood as the window slid upward, and she could just make out a silhouette as it climbed into the room.

“Stay.”

Shane released her so quickly she nearly dropped the poker. Because the shadow at the window was the only one she could make out, Jodie kept her eyes on it. A board moaned under the eaves. The shadow froze. Holding her breath, she counted to ten while the silence stretched. The moment the next board creaked, the shadow whirled toward it and suddenly there were two silhouettes locked together. The silence shattered as they pitched to the floor.

There was the sickening sound of a fist pounding into flesh and a series of grunts as the two figures rolled. A chair toppled and something rattled across the floor. Then the two figures rose again, blocking the light. She had to do something to help. Keeping as close to the eaves as she could, she edged her way toward the window. Glass shattered as they toppled a lamp. Poker raised, Jodie moved closer.

She dodged to the right when they rolled toward her. First one was on top, then the other. Which one was the intruder? Even as she hesitated, they rolled again, this time in the direction of the circle of rope.

The snare trap. Should she call a warning? Before she could open her mouth, a figure rose and staggered toward the window.

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.