Christmas Kisses Collection. Louise Allen

her best friend’s question Dr. McKenzie Sanders rolled her eyes at the emcee stepping out onto the Coopersville Community Theater stage. “That’s him.”

      “That’s the infamous Dr. Lance Spencer?” Cecilia sounded incredulous from the chair next to McKenzie’s.

      No wonder. Her best friend had heard quite a bit about the doctor slash local charity advocate. Was there any local charity he wasn’t involved with in some shape, form or fashion? McKenzie doubted it.

      Still, when he’d invited her to come and watch the Christmas program, she’d not been expecting the well-choreographed show currently playing out before her eyes. Lance and his crew were good. Then again, knowing Lance, she should have expected greatness. He’d put the event together and everything the man touched was pure perfection.

      And these days he wanted to touch her.

      Sometimes McKenzie wondered if it was a case of women-chasing-him-toward-the-holy-matrimony-altar burnout that had him focusing on commitment-phobic her. She never planned to marry and Lance knew it. She made no secret of the fact she was a good-time girl and was never going to be tied down by the golden band of death to all future happiness. After his last girlfriend had gone a little psycho when he’d told her flat out he had no intention of ever proposing, Lance apparently wanted a break from tall lanky blonde numbers trying to drag him into wedded “bliss.” He’d taken to chasing petite brunettes who got hives at the mere mention of marriage thanks to unhappily divorced parents.

      Her.

      Despite accepting his invitation and hauling Cecilia with her to watch his show, McKenzie was running as fast as she could and had no intention of letting Lance “catch” her. She didn’t want a relationship with him, other than their professional one and the light, fun friendship they already shared. Something else she’d learned from her parents thanks to her dad, who’d chased every female coworker he’d ever had. McKenzie was nothing like either of her parents. Still, she could appreciate fineness when she saw it.

      Lance was fine with a capital F.

      Especially in his suit that appeared tailor-made.

      Lance was no doubt one of those men who crawled out of bed covered in nonstop sexy. He was that kind of guy. The kind who made you want to skip that heavily iced cupcake and do some sit-ups instead just in case he ever saw you naked. The kind McKenzie avoided because she was a free spirit who wasn’t going to change herself for any man. Not ever. She’d eat her cupcake and have another if she wanted, with extra icing, thank you very much.

      She’d watched women change for a man, seen her own mother do that, time and again. Ultimately, the changes didn’t last, the men lost interest, and the women involved ended up with broken hearts and a lot of confusion about who they were. McKenzie never gave any man a chance to get close enough to change her. She dated, had a good time and a good life. When things started getting sticky, she moved on. Next, please.

      Really, she and Lance had a lot in common in that regard. Except he usually dated the same woman for several months and McKenzie’s relationships never lasted more than a few weeks at best. Anything longer than that just gave guys the wrong idea.

      Like that she might be interested in white picket fences, a soccer-mom minivan, two point five kids, and a husband who would quickly get bored with her and have flirtations with his secretary…his therapist…his accountant…his law firm partner’s wife…his children’s schoolteacher…and who knew who else her father had cheated on her mother with?

      Men cheated. It was a fact of life.

      Sure, there were probably a few good ones out there still if she wanted to search for that needle in a haystack. McKenzie didn’t.

      She wouldn’t change for a man or allow him to run around on her while she stayed home and scrubbed his bathroom floor and wiped his kids’ snotty noses. No way. She’d enjoy life, enjoy the opposite sex, and never make the mistake of being like her mother…or her father, who obviously couldn’t be faithful yet seemed to think he needed a wife on hand at all times since he’d just walked down the aisle for the fourth time since his divorce from McKenzie’s mother.

      Which made her question why she’d said no to Lance when he’d asked her out.

      Sure, there was the whole working-together thing that she clung to faithfully due to being scarred for life by her dad’s office romantic endeavors. Still, it wasn’t as if either she or Lance would be in it for anything more than to have some fun together. She was a fun-loving woman. He was a fun-loving man. They’d have fun together. Of that, she had no doubt. They were friends and occasionally hung out in groups of friends or shared a quick meal at the hospital. He managed to make her smile even on her toughest days. But when it had come to actually dating him she’d scurried away faster than a mouse in the midst of a spinster lady’s feline-filled house.

      “Emcee got your tongue?” Cecilia asked, making McKenzie realize she hadn’t answered her friend, neither had she caught most of what Lance had said as she’d gotten lost in a whirlwind of the past and present.

      “Sorry, I’m feeling a little distracted,” she shot back under her breath, her eyes on Lance and not the woman watching her intently.

      “I just bet you are.” Cecilia laughed softly and, although McKenzie still didn’t turn to look at her friend, she could imagine the merriment that was no doubt sparkling in her friend’s warm brown eyes. “That man is so hot I think I feel a fever coming on. I might need some medical care very soon. What’s his specialty?”

      “Internal medicine, not that you don’t already know that seeing as he works with me,” McKenzie pointed out, her gaze eating up Lance as he announced the first act, taking in the fluid movements of his body, the smile on his face, the dimples in his cheeks, the twinkle in his blue eyes. He looked like a movie star. He was a great doctor. What else could he do?

      McKenzie gulped back the knot forming in her throat as her imagination took flight on the possibilities.

      “Yeah, well, Christmas is all about getting a fabulous package, right? That man, right there, is a fabulous package,” Cecilia teased, nudging McKenzie’s arm.

      Snorting, she rolled her eyes and hoped her friend couldn’t see the heat flooding her cheeks. “You have a one-track mind.”

      “So do you and it’s not usually on men. You still competing in that marathon in the morning?”

      Running. It’s what McKenzie did. She ran. Every morning. It’s how she cleared her head. How she brought in each new day. How she stayed one step ahead of any guy who tried to wiggle his way into her heart or bedroom. She ran.

      Literally and figuratively.

      Not that she was a virgin. She wasn’t. Her innocence had run away a long time ago, too. It was just that she was choosy about who she let touch her body.

      Which brought her right back to the man onstage wooing the audience with his smile and charm.

      He wanted to touch her body. Not that he’d said those exact words out loud. It was in how he looked at her.

      He looked at her as if he couldn’t bear not to look at her.

      As if he’d like to tear her clothes off and show her why she should hang up her running shoes for however long the chemistry held out.

      She gulped again and forced more of those possibilities out of her mind.

      Loud applause sounded around the dinner theater as the show moved from one song to the next. Before long, Lance introduced a trio of females who sang a song about getting nothing for Christmas. At the end of the trio’s set, groups of carolers made their way around the room, singing near the tables rather than on the stage. Lance remained just off to the side of the stage and was directly in her line of vision. His gaze met hers and he grinned. Great, he’d caught her staring at him. Then again, wasn’t that why he’d invited her to attend?

      Because he wanted her to watch him.

      She