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

Jodie moved around behind Shane’s chair. It was just a massage, she told herself. It wasn’t…well, it wasn’t a whole lot of other things. It wasn’t as though she were kissing him again. Or feeling his body pressed close. As the warmth started to spread through her, she quickly pushed the other things she’d been thinking about doing with Shane Sullivan out of her mind. She could do this. People gave massages to other people all of the time. For some people, it was a job.

“Now, press down,” Sophie said. “And release. That’s right. Press and release. I told you, you could do it. It’s as simple as breathing.”

Right, Jodie thought. Except that it wasn’t so easy to breathe anymore. The air around her seemed to have thickened slightly. Think of something else, she told herself. Think of the grin on his face. She drew in a deep breath and let it out.

“Now, move your hands closer to his neck,” Sophie said.

She did as she was told and tried to block the sensations that had begun to move through her. Closing her mind to everything else, she focused on moving her hands over Shane in the rhythm Sophie was dictating. She’d never before realized how sensitive her fingers were. Incredible. They were absorbing everything—the prickly hairs on the back of his neck, the pulse beating at his throat.

“Press, release. Press, release.”

Sophie’s voice came from a distance, but it didn’t matter because her hands seemed to have developed a will of their own. They were moving in a circular motion back to his shoulders, pressing and releasing, pressing and releasing. The feel of his skin beneath her hands was mesmerizing. The air seemed to be filled with the sound of her own breathing, her own heartbeat quickening. Beneath the musky scent of the oil, she could smell something much more intriguing, something dark and male.

Her palms recorded each separate sensation—the smooth, slick warmth of his skin, the taut muscles beneath that gave when she pressed. A feeling of power moved through her, and suddenly there were other places she wanted to touch. She stroked her hands down his spine, then moved them slowly up again. There was such heat here. It moved from his skin to hers and then spread until it burned deep in her center. She wanted to do more than touch him. She wanted to lean forward and press her mouth to the back of his neck. To taste him. To have him turn and…

His skin was only inches away from her lips when she paused. What was she thinking? Drawing back a little, she tore her eyes off Shane and glanced around the kitchen. It was empty. How long had she—

“Don’t stop.”

It took her a second to realize that he’d spoken, that it wasn’t just the voice in her head.

“I can’t. We can’t.” Before she could lift her hands from him, he snagged her wrist and turned to face her. The moment she looked into his eyes, they trapped her as swiftly, as surely, as his hand had. In them she could see exactly what she was feeling, and all she would have to do was lean forward. It wouldn’t take much effort, because she felt as if she were caught by some kind of magnetic force that was pulling her slowly and inexorably toward him. And in another moment, everything she’d been imagining since the first time she met him would become reality.

Since the first time she met him… It was that thought that gave her the strength to pull herself free. She didn’t know Shane Sullivan, not well enough to…She took three quick steps backward before she smacked into the refrigerator door.

“You—you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to fix myself a drink, something to get rid of the taste of that hot chocolate.” If she could just keep talking…No, talking was not going to do it. She had to stop looking at him or the magnetic pull was going to get hold of her again. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with the latest motto of the day: Follow Your Passion.

Your passion is catching Billy, she reminded herself as she pulled the refrigerator open, not making love to Shane Sullivan on the kitchen table. She saw nothing but the bottle of milk that Irene had used to make the hot chocolate. Just the memory of it had her shutting the door and reaching for the overhead cupboard. “I think Sophie…yes, here it is, Sophie’s cure for a head cold—a twenty-year-old, single-malt Scotch.” Without glancing at Shane, she hurried on. “Care to join me?”

“Why not?”

“According to Sophie, it’s good for what ails you,” she said as she quickly filled two glasses, picked them up and turned. For a moment, just looking at him was enough to have her nerves knotting again. He was still naked from the waist up. He was still beautiful. And she wanted him even more than she had before.

She needed a drink. Holding the two glasses of Scotch in front of her like a shield, she moved forward. “What shall we drink to?” she asked as she set a tumbler in front of him.

“A pleasant day for the funeral,” Shane said.

Jodie blinked. “What?”

“Even twenty-year-old Scotch can be lethal if you’re going to knock down eight ounces.”

Jodie stared at the glass she’d filled to the brim as Shane took it from her and carried it along with his own to the counter. After carefully tipping most of the liquid back into the bottle, he gave her back her glass and lifted his own. “Why don’t we drink to the fantasy I was having a few moments ago?”

Jodie took a quick sip of her Scotch. Steadied by the heat that burned the back of her throat, she said, “It’s going to remain a fantasy.”

“I don’t think so.”

What she saw in Shane’s eyes made her throat go dry as dust again. It wasn’t the easy humor she was coming to expect. No, it was more like a threat—or a promise. She took another sip of scotch. “We can’t…We don’t even know each other.”

His smile bloomed slowly. “It’s not necessary to know someone all that well to—”

Jodie raised a hand to stop him. “It’s necessary for me.”

His grin widened. “Okay, ask me anything you want to know.”

There was a part of her that knew it was a trap. But another part of her just couldn’t resist. There was more to Shane Sullivan than he was letting on. “You’ll tell me the whole truth and nothing but the truth?”

“So help me, ma’am.” He turned his chair around and straddled it. “Shoot.”

For the first time in her life, Jodie thought she might have. If only she’d had a gun handy. Not the kind that Hank Jefferson had refused to sell her. Not a real gun. But if she’d had a water pistol handy, she would have taken aim and unloaded it just to wipe the self-confident grin off his face.

Setting her glass on the table, she sat down and said, “You’re not really some distant cousin of Katie Dillon’s, are you?”

Shane shrugged. “Well, in the sense that all of us are kin, I must be related in some way.”

“Bull. You want to know what I think? I think you’re a bounty hunter who’s come here to track Billy Rutherford down.”

For a moment, Shane didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move. Dillon was right. She was smart. The admiration he felt for her mixed with the annoyance he felt for himself. He’d been careless. And the reason for it was sitting right across the table from him. Instead of keeping his mind on getting his man, he’d been entertaining thoughts of…Ruthlessly, he pushed his fantasies aside.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Jodie asked.

“What tipped you off?”

“In the attic, you mentioned handcuffs. I don’t think they’re standard equipment for burnt-out corporate executives.”

He recalled exactly when the words had slipped out, but he’d been hoping she wouldn’t notice. He rarely let his cover slip, but he supposed swinging from the rafters by his feet was some excuse.

“Why are you a bounty hunter?” Jodie asked.

“The usual reasons, I suppose. It pays well and I’m good at it. Why are you a librarian?”

“Inertia. I loved college, and applying for the job at the library allowed me to stay right on campus.” She met his eyes squarely. “That makes me like my mother. Afraid to try anything new.”

“You must enjoy it,” Shane said.

She shrugged. “Parts of it. I love books and I love to research things and discover the answers, the secrets.”

“It sounds a lot like bounty hunting.”

“Except that I spend most of my time in front of a computer screen, and lately…” Suddenly her eyes narrowed. “Hey, I’m supposed to be asking the questions, not answering them.”

“I’ve got a proposition for you. Why don’t we team up and track down Billy Rutherford together?” The surprised look on her face summed up his own feelings exactly. Where in the world had that question come from? He always worked alone.

“No.”

That one word should have flooded him with relief, not disappointment. And certainly not annoyance “Why not? Think about it. It makes perfect sense. Especially if we don’t want to stage another Keystone Cops scene like the one we played out in the attic.”

“I can’t,” Jodie said. “I want to catch Billy to prove something—that I’m not like my mother. How am I going to do that if I team up with a big-time bounty hunter?”