Kisses on Her Christmas List. SUSAN MEIER

Tall black boots showcased her great legs.

      She was dressed like Mrs. Santa—if Mrs. Santa were a young, incredibly endowed woman who liked short skirts.

      His dormant hormones woke as if from a long winter’s nap, and he took a step back. These little bursts of attraction he was having toward her were all wrong. He had an unruly daughter who took priority over everything in his life, including his hormones, and he was a guest in Shannon’s house. Plus, tomorrow morning, when the storm was over, they’d go into her department store as adversaries of a sort. She’d be trying to sell her family business to him and he’d be looking for reasons not to buy. He couldn’t be attracted to her.

      He swallowed back the whole filing cabinet of flirtatious remarks that wanted to come out. “That’s an interesting choice of work clothes.”

      She laughed nervously. “I was going to fill in for our Santa’s helper in the toy department.”

      Ah. Not Mrs. Santa but Santa’s helper.

      “Well, the dress is very…” He paused. He knew the dress was probably supposed to be Christmassy and cute. And on a shorter woman it probably was. But she was tall, sleek, yet somehow still womanly. He didn’t dare tell her that. “Festive.”

      She brought the coat to her neck, using it to shield herself. “That’s the look we’re after. Festive and happy. And it actually works for the girl who fits into this costume. I was lucky Mother Nature saved me and I didn’t have to fill in for her tonight.”

      Recognizing her acute nervousness, Rory pulled his gaze away from her long, slim legs. He cleared his throat. “I…um…just followed you to see if I could help you with anything.”

      She motioned toward his black suit and white shirt. “Are you sure you want to butter bread or stir tomato soup in a suit?”

      He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and began rolling up his sleeves.

      And Shannon’s mouth watered. Damn it. She’d already figured out she couldn’t be fantasizing about him. Sure, his shoulders were broad, his arms muscled. And she’d always been a sucker for a man in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves looking like he was ready to get down to business. But as far as she could tell, he was married. That shut down the possibility of any relationship right then and there. Plus, she wanted him to buy her parents’ store. She couldn’t be drooling on him.

      She hung up her coat, then scurried past him, into the kitchen and directly to the laundry room. Leaning on the closed door, she drew in a deep breath. God, he was gorgeous. But he was also married.

      Married. Married. Married.

      She forced the litany through her head, hoping it would sink in, as she grabbed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from the dryer and changed into them.

      When she returned to the kitchen he stood at the center island, buttering bread. “While we have a few seconds of privacy, I also wanted to apologize for Finley. I brought her because she’s on Christmas break from school and I hate to leave her with her nanny for an entire week. But I know she can be a handful.”

      Walking over to join him, she said, “She’s just a little girl.”

      “True, but she’s also recently entered a new phase of some sort where she stomps her foot when she doesn’t get her own way.”

      Standing so close to him, she could smell his after-shave. Her breathing stuttered in and out of her lungs. So she laughed, trying to cover it. “A new phase, huh?”

      “She was perfectly fine in preschool and kindergarten, but first grade is turning her into a diva.”

      “Diva?”

      “Yeah.” Smiling, he caught her gaze, and every nerve ending in her body lit up like the lights on the Christmas tree in Central Park. Spinning away from him, she repeated the litany in her head again.

      Married. Married. Married!

      “You know, I can easily handle this myself. You can use the den for privacy if you need to call your wife.”

      He snorted a laugh. “Not hardly.”

      She set the frying pan for the sandwiches on the stove and faced him again. “I’m sure she’s worried.”

      “And I’m sure she and her new husband aren’t even thinking about me and Finley right now.”

      “Oh.” Nerves rolled through her. He was divorced? Not married?

      Their gazes caught. Attraction spun through her like snowflakes dancing in the light of a streetlamp. She reminded herself that they were about to do business, but it didn’t work to snuff out the snap and crackle of electricity sizzling between them.

      She pivoted away from him. Pretending she needed all her concentration to open two cans of soup, she managed to avoid conversation. But that didn’t stop the chatter in her brain. As difficult as it might be to have a little girl around, she was abundantly glad Finley was with him. She might have had that quick fantasy of being stranded with him, but now that sanity had returned, she knew the sale of the store had to take precedence over a night of…she swallowed…passion? Good God, she hadn’t even thought the word in a year, let alone experienced it. She’d probably dissolve into a puddle if he made a pass at her.

      Finley came out of the bedroom just as Rory set the sandwiches on the table and Shannon had finished ladling soup into the bright green bowls sitting on the pretty yellow place mats. She crawled onto a chair and spread her paper napkin on her lap.

      Longing hit Shannon like an unexpected burst of winter wind. She remembered dreams of buying pretty dresses for her own little girl, her dreams of taking her to the park, gymnastics, dance lessons and soccer—

      She stopped her thoughts, cut off the sadness and grief that wanted to engulf her. Surely, she could have a little girl in her house without breaking into a million shattered pieces? She hadn’t given up on the idea of becoming a mother altogether. She knew that once she adjusted to not having her own child, she could adopt. So maybe this was a good time to begin adjusting?

      Finley sighed. “I don’t like red soup.”

      Sounding very parental, Rory said, “That’s okay. Just eat your sandwich.”

      Finley sighed heavily again, as if it were pure torture not to get her own way. Rory ignored her. Shannon studied her curiously, realizing that with Diva Finley she really would get a solid understanding of what it took to be a parent. She was like a little blond-haired litmus test for whether or not Shannon had what it took to adopt a child and be a mom.

      Rory turned to her and said, “This is certainly a lovely old house.”

      She faced Rory so quickly that their gazes collided. He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. And they were bottomless. Mesmerizing…

      She gave herself a mental shake. It was pointless to be attracted. He wouldn’t make a pass at her with his daughter around, and she wouldn’t make a pass at him because they were about to do business. She had to stop noticing these things.

      She cleared her throat. “The parts I’ve restored are great. But the whole heating system needs to be replaced.”

      “Well, you’ve done a wonderful job on the renovations you have done.”

      “Really?” She peeked up at him.

      And everything Rory wanted to say fell out of his head. Her big blue eyes reminded him of the sky in summer. The black curls that curved around her face had his hand itching to touch them.

      Finley sighed heavily. “I don’t want this soup.”

      Rory faced her. “We already agreed that you didn’t have to eat it.”

      “I don’t like that it’s here.”

      “Here?”

      “In front of me!”

      Before Rory