Dawn Temple - Moonlight and Mistletoe

“Most kids don’t get as lucky as I did, and while I can’t solve all their problems or single-handedly fix the system, I can make sure that the kids who come to me know someone cares about them. I can show them that they don’t have to spend the rest of their lives paying for their parents’ mistakes.”

“You’re truly incredible, Shayna. All that compassion and conviction will make you an amazing role model for the kids you work with. You’ll go the distance. I’m sure of it.”

Flustered by his kind words, she dropped her roll onto her plate and hid her trembling hands in her lap. “I swear, Kyle, sometimes you’re so charming I think you must be part southern.”

“It’s not charm. It’s the truth.” His hand tenderly captured hers, his thumb tantalizing her palm. “And for the record, southern men don’t have a monopoly on complimenting smart, beautiful, giving women.”

Was it possible for bones to actually melt? Sure seemed like hers were. Even knowing it was a bad idea, Shayna couldn’t seem to keep her hand from flipping over, her fingers tangling with his. “I think the wine might be going to our heads.”

“I’m dead sober and dying to kiss you.” His voice was so strong and deep, Shayna felt the words all the way down to her toes.

It seemed to her they’d been building to this moment since his arrival. “Are you having as much trouble as I am remembering why that would be a bad idea?”

Kyle tunneled his free hand into her hair. “I’ve been fantasizing about feeling your hair draped over my body.”

Shayna braced her hand on his knee and leaned toward Kyle’s lips. “Any spot in particular?”

“Oh, yeah.” His mouth brushed her skin, traveling slowly across her cheek. Her fingers delved into the thick hair at his nape and, tired of denying herself, she turned his head and captured his lips.

The reaction was immediate, explosive. Heavenly.

Kyle quickly took control, his lips exploring hers until he found the perfect fit. Without breaking the kiss, he plucked her out of her chair and set her across his lap, matching her softness against his hardness, letting her feel how much he enjoyed kissing her. She gasped, and he took the kiss even deeper, to a place she thought existed only in love songs.

His right hand skimmed up her thigh, under the hem of her sweater. His skin felt cool against her stomach as his palm eased up to cup her breast, exploring her size and shape. His thumb grazed the tip, and her nipple snapped to attention.

Arching her back, she thrust herself closer to his touch, silently begging for more. He complied immediately, lowering his head and nipping her through her sweater. An excited tingle buzzed through her, ping-ponging between her breasts and her belly.

No longer able to bear not touching him, she set her trembling fingers to work on his shirt buttons. In no time, she had that beautiful, tight, tanned chest exposed.

She grazed her fingertips from his collarbone to his navel. Wanting to taste, she flicked her tongue over a hard brown nipple. He shuddered and released a loud groan of pleasure, which nearly drowned out the ringing telephone.

They both froze. Kyle’s whispered curse matched Shayna’s thoughts exactly. “I don’t suppose you can let it ring?”

“Shouldn’t.” She shuddered as his teeth nipped her earlobe. “It might be an emergency.”

“Okay, but don’t forget where we were.” He kissed the curl of her ear before pulling back. Shayna stood slowly, not sure her legs would support her weight. The phone’s third ring sounded like a trumpet blast.

Her fingers weren’t quite steady as she picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“Well, happy holidays, girlie.”

Shayna’s aroused sluggishness disappeared in a flash at the sound of Patty’s scratchy voice on the line. The phone nearly squeezed through her fisted grip. “What the hell do you want?”

Kyle, shirt still unbuttoned and untucked, was at her elbow in a heartbeat, a raised eyebrow silently asking the caller’s identity.

“Patty,” she whispered. Kyle’s face instantly registered the same degree of fury flooding Shayna’s system.

“Got company, do you? I’ll bet our sexy lawyer friend’s a demon in the sheets. Is that how he plans to get you to agree to Steven’s silly scheme?”

As her mother’s venom poured through the phone and straight into her brain, time spun backward, hurtling Shayna back to that ratty apartment in Boston, where Patty had ruled with an iron fist and Shayna was always too afraid to do anything other than exactly what she was told.

“If he’d offered me a tumble, I damn sure would’ve taken it. The man’s got great hands. You know what they say about a man with big hands, don’t you, girlie?”

Suddenly the phone was wrenched from her grip. “Patty, where the hell are you?” Kyle’s voice became a background blur as her brain spun.

How could she be so stupid? A home-cooked meal, a handful of sweet compliments, a few steamy glances and she was ready to haul this man-this near-stranger-into her bed, and all this time, he’d just been working his case. If Patty hadn’t interrupted when she did, they’d probably already be well on their way to naked and sweaty.

She wiped her clammy forehead with the back of her hand. Kyle’s back was to her as he spoke into the phone. “I told you not to make a move until you heard from me.”

Were they working together? Disgust rolled through her stomach. Too stunned to even work up a good fight, Shayna left the kitchen. Earlier, she’d sent Brinks outside so they could eat without suffering his begging. Now she stopped at the front door long enough to let him in, then she dragged her leaden body up the stairs.

She should have figured any man who would willingly work for her selfish, greedy birth father would consider sex just another tool to get the job done. Once she and Brinks reached the bedroom, she locked the door, something she’d never done before.

Her movements were jerky as she crossed to the bed, shedding her clothes as she went. She needed to crash. Sleep would keep her mortified tears at bay and give her the strength to work up a good head of steam tomorrow.

She crawled under the covers. Brinks jumped up and settled next to her, one paw resting against her heart. This was the kind of love and support a girl could trust.

First thing in the morning, she was getting that man off her mountain, even if she had to strap him to her back and carry him over that damned bridge. Although, with his bulldog tenacity, she knew getting him back down the mountain wouldn’t be as hard as getting him out of her life.

Kyle nearly lost his train of thought when Shayna stumbled out of the kitchen, her skin so pale that her veins stood out in morbid relief. He wanted to fling the phone against the wall and pull her back into his arms. But Patty was bitching in his ear, threatening to screw Walker by going straight to the media.

This potential danger to his client-to his career-narrowed Kyle’s focus back onto the job at hand. “Patty, if you cross Dr. Walker, you won’t get one red cent.”

She continued to rant and rave for nearly half an hour. He should have hung up long before now, but knowing Patty it would have pissed her off so badly that she’d have acted immediately-the resulting actions harming everyone involved.

Not wanting to see Shayna suffer any more for her mother’s mistakes, he talked until both his voice and his vocabulary were exhausted. Eventually she agreed to cool her heels.

The instant he disconnected the call, he raced upstairs to check on Shayna. He never should have touched her. Where the hell was his professionalism? His common sense?

The wine and the candles had gone to his head. Not that he’d been drunk. Far from it. But the atmosphere had lulled him into forgetting who they were, why he was here. And now he’d hurt her. Damn. She didn’t deserve to be used. Not by Walker or Patty and most certainly not by him.

Shayna represented the complete opposite of what he aspired to. Ironic that she was the key to his future success. Of course, if he didn’t get a handle on this situation, he would lose everything he’d worked for.

He knocked gently on her bedroom door. “Shayna, are you okay?” The only sound was Brinks sniffing through the crack at the bottom of the door.

“Shayna?”

“Go away.”

“Not until I know you’re okay. What did she say to you?”

“Nothing I shouldn’t have been able to figure out on my own.”

What the hell did that mean? “Shayna, please let me in. We need to talk.”

“I think we’ve said more than enough.”

He didn’t like the defeat in her voice. Through all the crap that had been thrown at this woman, he’d never once heard her sound weak.

“Go away, Kyle.” The light filtering under her door went dark. He stood there several more minutes, encouraging her to speak to him, but eventually he had to concede.

He trudged back downstairs and started cleaning the kitchen.

Both Patty and Shayna insisted Walker had known about the child from the beginning. If that were true, a million dollars was paltry compensation for the abuse of abandoning a child to the hell of life with a witch like Patty Hoyt. Imagine the emotional scars of spending years trapped under that woman’s vindictive thumb.

As bad as his own childhood had been, at least the true hell hadn’t started until he was ten years old. By the time heroin took control of his mother’s life, he’d been big enough to seek shelter when the storms brewed. Had Shayna ever had any protection from Patty?

His eyes were drawn to the portrait over the fireplace. James Miller had been her protection. He’d rescued her from Patty’s world, and even though the man had made mistakes along the way-mistakes the world was likely to persecute him for-Kyle knew Miller’s actions had been heroic.

And now Kyle had crashed her life, unleashing all that old pain. As a child, Shayna had been resilient enough to bounce back. As an adult, would she be strong enough to recover a second time?

First thing Friday morning, Shayna picked her way down the road, sticking to the shoulder, doing her best to avoid the slushy brown patches of ice and dirt. The ground looked as if someone had spilled a giant Coke Icee over the mountain.

Good thing her boots were designed to muck through all sorts of nature’s nastiness. It took her thirty minutes to reach Kyle’s car. It was nose down in a ditch about two miles from the cabin. The front tires were buried in mud, the hood was crunched and from the way the tires listed in, she figured the front axle was significantly bent.

Stepping carefully into the ditch, she pried open the back driver’s-side door and peeked inside, finding nothing except the keys still dangling from the ignition. Bracing a knee on the backseat, she reached in and snagged them. Not that anyone could steal the car. It wasn’t going anywhere without a wrecker.

So much for sending him on his way and never hearing from him again. She had no doubt he’d turn rescuing his rental into an excuse to knock on her door and continue pushing Walker’s outlandish proposal.

Odd thing was, after last night’s debacle, she’d gladly spend hours talking about that ridiculous offer. Even that would be better than discussing how close she’d come to falling for his kiss-now-sign-later game.

After Kyle had finally left her alone last night, she’d tossed and turned until the early-morning hours, trying to come up with a game plan to get rid of him. When she’d finally dragged her groggy body out of bed, she’d bundled up and headed out here to check the bridge, hoping and praying with each step that at the lower elevation, the ice wouldn’t be such a nuisance.

No such luck.

Thanks to the steam coming off the water and the freezing wind blowing across the bridge, the road surface wore a thick coat of black ice. The half-mile span was too wide to attempt walking across, except under the most dire of emergencies. And while she wanted Kyle Anderson gone, she didn’t want it badly enough to see anyone risk life or limb.

She turned and whistled as Brinks came charging out of the woods, barking like crazy. The past couple of months had been unusually warm and dry, so the dog was loving this cold weather.

Thinking about the lack of recent rainfall sparked another idea in Shayna’s head.

It might be possible to cross the gulch on foot, down by Hunter’s Pass. Not an easy trek, but if it meant getting Kyle out of her home, she was game.

She’d need a volunteer to pick him up on the other side, someone she trusted. One person came to mind immediately: Danny Robertson. A widower with two young girls, he was one of the steadiest men she’d ever met.