Mistletoe Matchmaker. Lissa Manley

time to see her sprint to the door.

       He rose from the makeshift computer station he’d set up at the antique roll-top desk in Aunt Rose’s living room and glanced at his watch. Six-thirty. Wow. Where had the afternoon gone?

       Stretching the kinks from his back and shoulders again—maybe a few aspirin would do him some good—he headed to the front of the house.

       Jade was waiting by the front door, her tail wagging, obviously eager to greet their visitor, whom, if he guessed right, had long curly red hair and stunning green eyes.

       Molly.

       His heart rate kicked up a notch, but he ignored the sensation. She was just here to deliver tennis balls for Jade, right? Nothing to get all excited about.

       He opened the door, holding Jade’s collar—he learned fast—and saw Molly standing on the other side of the door, her face wreathed in a pretty smile that did funny things to his insides.

       “Hi!” she said, her voice bright and sunny, which was all the sunshine he’d get today, given the cloudy skies. She held up a blue bag in her left hand. “I stopped at the Sports Shack and brought Jade some fresh tennis balls.”

       He couldn’t help but smile back; her good mood was infectious after a long day of dry programming. “I figured it was you,” he replied, pulling a squirming Jade back, putting his shoulders into the task. Boy, the dog was strong, and obviously wanted to get to Molly.

       “Remember the treats?” Molly asked, nodding to Jade, who was about to pull his arm out of its socket. “Better use them now.”

       “Oh. Yeah.” Grant felt his back pocket with his free hand, then pulled the treats out.

       “Tell her to sit, and stay,” Molly instructed. “Use a firm but kind voice.”

       “Sit,” he said firmly. “Stay.”

       Jade instantly sat, her coal black eyes beaming up at him.

       “Now, give her a treat and praise her,” Molly said.

       He dug a treat out of the bag and hastily gave Jade one. “Good dog.”

       She gobbled it up and kept her gaze homed in on him.

       Grant turned to look at Molly, shaking his head. “Amazing. It works every time.”

       She shrugged. “What can I say? Most dogs will do anything for food.”

       He tucked the treats back into his pocket. “Gotta remember that.”

       She held up a bag of groceries in her other hand. “Speaking of food, I brought stuff to make spaghetti.”

       He blinked. “I really shouldn’t take any time away from work,” he automatically said. Though, actually, a break sounded great.

       Molly peered around him, her gaze landing on his already well-used work area. “Looks like you’ve been at it for a while.”

       “Yeah.” He swiped a hand over his face. “Pretty much all day.”

       “Maybe you could use a breather.”

       His thoughts exactly. He hated to admit it, but she was probably right.

       “Everyone needs to eat, don’t they?” she asked when he didn’t respond. “Doesn’t spaghetti sound good?”

       His stomach growled. “I don’t want to impose.” Although, a home-cooked meal was sounding better and better. He’d eaten a quick breakfast of toast and eggs early this morning, but hadn’t eaten anything since. Not surprising he was starving.

       “Oh, you wouldn’t be imposing,” she said. “I’d be cooking for myself, anyway, so it’s no trouble.”

       “You’re very persuasive.” He’d have to watch out.

       “I’ve been told I’m quite stubborn,” she said, lifting her chin.

       “I can tell.” Actually, he kind of liked that about her. And, really, it would be rude to refuse her offer. He knew she was just trying to help, as his aunt had wanted.

       Making a snap decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret, he stepped back and gestured Molly in. “You’ve talked me into dinner, on one condition.”

       She looked expectantly at him, her green eyes questioning. “Which is?”

       “I don’t want you to be waiting on me. So I’ll help you get dinner together, okay?”

       She paused, shaking her head, her curls swaying with the motion. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary.”

       “I insist. You’ve had a long day, too, and I’m sure you’re tired. If we work together, we can turn out a meal in no time.” And he could get back to work faster, refueled and ready to tackle his code with fresh focus. Actually, if he ate a hearty meal, he’d probably get more work done. Another reason to agree to her deal.

       “O…okay,” she said, sounding strangely reluctant to agree. “I still have to drop the lures by Floyd’s house, so I guess it would be nice to finish up here early.”

       “Exactly,” Grant replied, nodding.

       “Great. So, let’s get started.” She moved around him and headed toward the homey kitchen, her soft, breezy scent hitting him when she walked by.

       Boy, she smelled good. Kind of like flowers in a meadow, all sweet and warm and fresh. Suddenly, hanging out in the kitchen with her did sound great.

       Uneasiness snaked through him. Maybe too great for a man who didn’t want to get caught up in any woman ever again.

       Molly unloaded the food for dinner onto Rose’s tile kitchen counters, her hands so clumsy she almost dropped the loaf of French bread she’d brought.

       She very deliberately set the bread on the counter, taking a deep breath to calm herself. She needed to simmer down and focus on finding out more about Grant so she could figure out who to set him up with.

       Simple.

       The thing was, cooking for Grant was a lot different than cooking with Grant.

       That thought was reinforced when Grant entered the room, Jade at his heels adoringly, and he brought his charming self right into Molly’s space. Yes, indeed. Rose’s kitchen was small, Grant was big, and somehow preparing a meal together held the promise of a closeness that rattled her to no end. She wasn’t here to act on any attraction she might feel. She was here to learn more about him to find his perfect match.

       She gripped the edge of the counter, watching Jade plop herself down in the corner and lay her head on her paws, her black eyes watching everything.

       “What do you want me to do?” Grant asked, looking around the kitchen. He moved closer, then reached over and picked up a fat onion she’d unloaded. “You want me to demolish this baby?”

       Trying to keep her wits about her, Molly zeroed in on the knife block to her right. She grabbed a big blade suitable for chopping. “Here you go,” she said, handing it to him, careful not to touch his hand. She spied the cutting board next to the sink and picked it up. “You’ll need this, too.”

       He put the knife down and took the board from her. “Okay. I’ve got tools. I’m sure I can figure out how to slice and dice.”

       She peered at him. “Have you ever chopped an onion?”

       He shook his head as he retrieved the knife and held it up in the air. “No, I sure haven’t.”

       “Um…you want me to show you how?” Chopping lessons seemed harmless enough.

       He grabbed the onion and eyed it. “Nah, how hard can it be?”

       Relief and disappointment hit her at once, creating a strange kind of off-balance feeling inside of her she didn’t really like. She gestured to the cutting board. “Have at it, then.