Christmas Kisses For A Dollar

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She shut him up by the simple expedient of rising on tiptoe and pressing her lips to his. She felt his breath catch, then a shudder ripple through his lean frame.

His hands traveled a restless circuit over her back, again and again. She felt surrounded by his male presence and sensed the power he held in check. Perhaps this wasn’t wise.…

“Open your mouth,” he whispered against her lips.

“I don’t like openmouthed kisses,” she tried to explain, then remembered how exciting it had felt to run her tongue over his lips when he’d kissed her at the bazaar.

“That was before,” he muttered.

“Yes,” she agreed.

He deepened the kiss before she could protest, his tongue sliding easily between her parted lips and dipping into her mouth as if he were tasting honey.

She became lost in the sensuous feelings he aroused in her. Instinctively she moved against the hard ridge that pressed so provocatively against her. The knowledge of his arousal fed her own excitement. She felt his hands slide down her back and cup her buttocks, bringing her into closer contact.

With a gasp, she threaded her fingers into his dark hair and pulled him closer. The kiss became hungrier, more demanding.

He pressed her against the wall, holding her there with his strength while his hands roamed over her. Finally he stopped his roaming and settled both hands over her breasts, taking their weight in his palms, then rubbing the tips with his thumbs until both stood out against her knit top.

The dizziness she’d experienced on Saturday returned. No! She didn’t want to faint and miss a second of this bliss.

The bell jingled over the front door.

“Hello. Anybody home?” someone called.

With an effort, she brought her senses under control. Her companion didn’t seem to notice the interruption. She twisted her face to the side. He caught a handful of her hair and buried his face against the side of her neck, holding her captive while he controlled his breathing.

“Be…be with you in a minute,” Anne called. “I’m…uh…tied up at the moment.”

“It’s the mail. I’ll put it on the counter.”

“Oh, yes…thanks.” She could hardly pull a coherent word from her dazed mind.

“See you tomorrow.” The bell jingled again.

Silence pervaded the shop.

“Is she gone?” Jon murmured against her neck.

“Yes.”

He took several deep breaths and lifted his head. His gaze searched hers in a somber manner. “That’s the second time this has happened to me.”

“What?”

“Forgetting everything because of you.”

Her own reactions to his nearness were more primitive and lustful than anything she’d ever felt. “I know.”

He released her slowly, reluctantly. “The invitation to dinner still stands.”

“Maybe we’d better think on that,” she suggested, troubled by the way her body went haywire when he touched her.

It occurred to her that her aunt might be right. Maybe her heart couldn’t handle this kind of intense excitement. It seemed so unfair—to find ecstasy and not be able to savor it. Her entire life had been like that, and she wanted more…more…

“Yeah,” he agreed. He stepped back and looked down.

Her gaze followed his. He was still rigid with desire. Heat swept through her again, making her weak with longing. She wasn’t sure she liked another person having this much power over her. It seemed too serious for an affair.

He recovered his equilibrium first, and his sense of humor. “Eighteen to go,” he told her with a wry chuckle and headed for the front door.

“That surely counted for more than one,” she protested.

She followed him, smoothing her knit shirt over her slacks. She couldn’t help but note that his shirt was half out of his jeans. She’d done that, pulling at it, wanting it out of the way so she could touch his bare skin.

He turned at the door. “No way.” His gaze caressed her before he left. “When will I see you?”

Alone and uninterrupted was the rest of the sentence.

“I don’t know.”

“Scared?” he challenged.

“Yes.”

“Me, too.”

She stared into his eyes. Then, for some reason that escaped her, they both smiled. He nodded briefly as if making his mind up to some silent concern, then left.

She leaned against the wall, a hand pressed to the pounding ache in her chest, and wondered how to let go once a person caught a tiger by the tail.

3

Jon stood on the sidewalk beside his truck. He checked his watch, then frowned at the building. The receptionist had said the office closed at five on Thursdays. The last patient had left thirty minutes ago. Where was Ellen Adamson?

“Hello. What are you doing here?”

He spun around. Ellen came toward him from a side door of the medical building. She stopped where the two sidewalks joined and smiled at him. Her eyes held a question.

“You got a minute?” he asked. “I’d like to talk to you.” He stuck his hands in his back pockets. “I thought we might go have a bite to eat. If you’re free.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “The diner?”

“Sure.”

He fell into step beside her, unable to think of a single item of small talk. “About Anne,” he began hesitantly.

“Now, why did I think her name might come up in this conversation?” Ellen asked. Her expression was kind.

“Yeah, well, I have some questions.” He held open the door to the small restaurant, then followed Ellen inside. She chose a table in a secluded corner. The waitress brought them menus and water right away. They waited until she left.

“Sweep her off her feet,” Ellen said.

“What?” He surely wasn’t hearing correctly.

“Sweep Anne off her feet,” she explained with a patient air. “She deserves some fun in her life…for a change.”

Jon frowned. “I’m not planning on staying here.”

“Why not? It’s a nice place to raise a family. Rich-port was your home once. It’s time you were settling down.”

“Spoken like a true female.”

His companion ignored the sardonic statement. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I want Anne to have one glorious experience in her life before she succumbs to boredom.”

He took a sip of water to douse the fire her advice incited and to gain some time, then decided he’d better come right out with it. “Her aunt told me Anne has a heart condition.”

Ellen nodded.

“Is it safe for her…I mean, if…How serious is it?”

Understanding dawned in the brown eyes watching him as if she could see right into his mind. He tried to block the memory of the kisses he and Anne had shared—two of them, so potent, the thought made him burn with longing.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Ellen assured him in a soft voice. “Certainly it’s nothing that would preclude a normal relationship between a man and a woman.”

He heard the slight stress on normal, but it didn’t relieve his worries. “She fainted in my arms last Saturday although she pretended afterward that it was an act. Part of it was real, I think. And her heart beats so hard when I touch her…”

The thought trailed away as he recalled how she’d felt in his arms. She became as lost in their kisses as he did.

“What else would you expect with an aunt like Marge?” Ellen demanded, her eyes narrowing in anger.

“Explain that.”

Ellen sighed in disgust. “All her life Anne’s been told she mustn’t run, she mustn’t get excited, she mustn’t get overheated. She wasn’t allowed to participate in sports or any rough play. It’s a miracle that she ever broke free and made a life for herself at all. But she did, and it’s a nice one. She’s happy, productive and busy. She’s even thinking of marriage.”

Jon scowled. “The senator may be okay, but he’s not the one for Anne. She’s not in love with him.”

“Right. But she is thinking of marrying him. Then she meets a man who makes her feel things she’s never felt before.” Ellen smiled. “You’ve shaken her up. I personally think that’s what she needs.”

“What exactly is wrong with her heart?”

“She has a valve that sags a bit. If it gets to leaking, she might need a new one, but there’s no indication of that happening. She can lead a perfectly ordinary life.”

He gave her a skeptical glance. “Anne couldn’t fake the way her heart beats when we kiss.”

“If a person has been cautioned about her heart all her life, what do you think is going to happen when she runs into her first real experience with sexual excitement? It’s going to be a bit overwhelming, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I see what you mean,” Jon said, mulling this over. “So making love would be no danger to her?” He felt the heat sneak into his face at this disclosure.

“Making love never hurt anyone. Except for Type A middle-aged men trying to recover their lost youth,” Ellen added in her usual dry manner. “I hope you won’t let it put you off Anne. She needs someone to open her eyes to the things she’s missed. Even if you offer nothing more than a torrid affair, at least she’ll know what to look for next time. She’s a first-class person. I don’t want her to settle for a second-best love.”

Jon found that the idea of someone else with Anne, making love, sharing her laughter and those incredible kisses, didn’t set well with him. He grimaced. Next thing he knew, he’d be dreaming of rose-covered cottages and the patter of little feet.

“Thanks for leveling with me,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt Anne, in spite of what Esmeralda thinks.”

“Esmeralda?” Ellen questioned.

“Aunt Marge.” He grinned wickedly, already gearing up for battle with the old witch.

Ellen laughed in delight. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She studied him for a second, then added softly, “You’re a fool if you let Anne get away.”

“I’m not a marrying man,” he informed her.

She was still laughing when the waitress came for their order. He had to grin. She didn’t say it, but he had to admit it sounded like a case of him protesting too much.

One thing he knew—he’d never spent this much time worrying about whether he’d be good for a woman. In fact, he’d never thought about a relationship in those terms at all. Until Anne.

Anne sat at the table by the door, ticking off names as people arrived for the chamber of commerce dinner, which was the first Friday of each month. Their guest speaker, a professor from the university at Austin, had called in sick. Randall Talbert had agreed to come down in his place.

She could hear Randall’s pleasant voice and deep chuckle behind her as he talked to the members who had already arrived. When he’d called to chat earlier that day, she’d mentioned the problem. He’d immediately volunteered to come to their aid, rearranging his schedule to do so.

“Good evening,” a masculine baritone broke into her musing.

She stared up into eyes that reminded her of the river with an early-morning fog rising from its smoky surface.

Jon was dressed in a tailored suit of salt-and-pepper gray with a thread of blue running through the material. His shirt was light blue, his tie navy with a red-and-gray abstract design.