Christmas Kisses For A Dollar. Laurie Paige

she said noncommittally.

      “Your aunt said you were a virgin.”

      Anne shook her head in exasperation. “How could she presume to know that?”

      “You’re not saying, huh?” His gaze was speculative…and a little troubled.

      “I was almost engaged once. In college.” she told him in a low voice as the waitress brought fresh coffee.

      “I see.”

      He didn’t ask her about what had happened. She wasn’t going to confess that the relationship hadn’t gone beyond a few torrid kisses, none of which had made her feel more than slightly breathless. She glanced at Jon’s mouth and wondered what kind of magic he’d used on her and if she’d feel it again if they kissed.

      The waitress leaned over him as she refilled his coffee cup, her arm brushing his as she did. There was a wealth of invitation in the action. Anne found it irritating.

      With something akin to shock, she realized she was jealous. “I need to get back to the shop. I have several orders to fill for delivery this afternoon.”

      “I’ll walk you back.”

      “Stay and finish your coffee while it’s hot.” She stood.

      So did he. He seemed tall and powerful. “If you’re leaving, I’m finished,” he told her.

      “A very diplomatic way of putting it.”

      “And true.” He laid a bill on the table and took her hand as they left.

      At the flower shop, he went inside and looked around. “Very nice,” he commented, sniffing a bouquet.

      He followed her when she stored her purse on a shelf in her workroom. Suddenly he was very close.

      Her eyes went wide when she saw the intent in his eyes. “I don’t think—”

      “Good,” he murmured. He slipped his arms behind her and gathered her close.

      With a sigh, she leaned into his embrace. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she lifted her face, closed her eyes and waited for his kiss…and waited…and waited.

      She opened her eyes. He was watching her.

      “Yes?” she said, flustered by his stare.

      “Do you want the sweet nothings now or later?” he inquired politely, a hint of a smile in his eyes.

      It took less than a second to decide. “Later.” She pulled his head down to hers, surprised at the urgency.

      “I like aggressive women,” he murmured.

      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.

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