Holiday Kisses. Gwynne Forster

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      “May I come in, Kisha?”

      As she handed him the key, her hand shook and her nerves tingled. Inside her foyer, he flicked on the light and returned her key. For want of something better to say, and because she had never in her life been so nervous, she asked, “Would you like some coffee?”

      He shook his head. “No thanks. All I want is you in my arms, and nothing else will satisfy me.” He stepped closer, and she gazed up at him. And waited. “I…I don’t understand it,” he said, “but I need you.”

      Her left hand reached out to stroke his face, and his arms enveloped her. “Kiss me sweetheart.”

      Kisha’s hands locked around his neck, and she thought she’d lose her sanity while he stared at her lips. “Craig,” she whispered, and his lips touched hers—gently at first and then with a powerful, seductive passion that shook her to the core of her being. His tongue searched every crevice of her mouth, plunging deeper in while his hands locked her so close that her nipples beaded. Her body jerked forward, and his right hand caressed her left breast. Heat plowed through her veins and pooled in her loins. She wanted his mouth on her body. Stifling a groan, she forced herself to resist moving her hips up to him. She wanted him then as she’d never wanted any man, but she knew that if she took him, she’d lose him. As he’d said, “Easy come, easy go.”

      GWYNNE FORSTER

      is a national bestselling author of more than twenty romance novels and novellas, as well as general fiction. She has worked as a journalist, a university professor and as a senior officer for the United Nations. She holds bachelor’s and master’s degrees in sociology, and a master’s degree in economics/ demography.

      Gwynne sings in her church choir, loves to entertain at dinner parties, is a gourmet cook and an avid gardener. She enjoys jazz, opera, classical music and the blues. She also likes to visit museums and art galleries. She lives in New York with her husband.

      Holiday Kisses

      Gwynne Forster

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      To my deceased parents, who gave me a legacy of faith

       in God, instilled in me the virtue of honesty and the

       importance of doing my very best at whatever I attempt,

       and who shared with me and my siblings their love of

       books and writing.

      Dear Reader,

      This has been a banner year for me. Holiday Kisses is my third Kimani Romance in 2009. I hope you’ve had a chance to read the other two, Private Lives and Finding Mr. Right.

      As with all my books, the inspiration for Holiday Kisses came from my own experience. A dear friend of mine is terrified of going to the dentist, especially when needles are involved. So in this novel I imagined what would happen when a romance sparks over a root canal. I hope you enjoy it.

      I have good news for all of you who have asked me time and again to continue the Harrington series. Telford, Russ and Drake Harrington soon find out that their extended family is larger than they think. Look for my next Harrington romance in the Arabesque line next September.

      I enjoy receiving mail, so please e-mail me at [email protected]. If you prefer to mail me a letter, you can reach me at P.O. Box 45, New York, NY 10044; if you would like a reply, please enclose a self-addressed, stamped envelope. For more information, please contact my agent, Pattie Steel-Perkins of Steel-Perkins Literary Agency, at [email protected].

      Warmest regards,

      Gwynne Forster

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 1

      Kisha Moran walked briskly toward her Baltimore dental office, hoping to get some paperwork done before her first scheduled appointment. She wanted to get an early start on what was sure to be a very long day. Lost in her thoughts, she barely noticed the tall, casually dressed man leaning against the doorway of her office until she was close enough to make out his features. She approached him warily, but saw in his eyes and facial expression that he seemed to be in serious pain rather than a physical threat, despite the fact that he easily towered over her five-foot-seven-inch height.

      “I’m Doctor Moran,” she said. “May I help you?”

      “I sure hope you can. I’ve got a terrible toothache, and this thing kept me up all night.”

      She unlocked the door, and led him into a waiting room with a large, flat-screen television. She turned on the television. “This should distract you for a minute.”

      “Doctor, nothing is going to distract me as long as this thing is throbbing.”

      “Try to relax,” she said, taking off her jacket and putting on a white lab coat.

      “Look, can’t you just give me some pills for the pain? Last night I tried to quell the pain with some bourbon, but this thing is killing me.”

      She ushered him into one of the patient rooms, where he reclined in the dentist chair. She guessed he must have been at least six foot four from the way he had to contort his frame to fit in the chair. With her mask in place, she moved closer to him and looked down at his face just as he opened his eyes and looked at her.

      Until now she hadn’t noticed how beautiful the brother was—gorgeous was more like it. His long lashes and dark, deep-set eyes seemed to promise everything a woman could desire. His thin top lip was offset by a full bottom lip that made him look as if he were pouting. She imagined what it would feel like if she’d bent down and run her tongue across his lips. How would it feel to run her fingers through the silky curls that framed his face, which was the color of shelled walnuts? She tried to still the butterflies in her stomach and chided herself for her thoughts, but to no avail.

      “I’ll give you a Novocain shot, and in five minutes you won’t feel a thing,” she said, trying to affect an air of nonchalance.

      He nearly sprang out of the chair. “Novocain? In a needle? No way. Give me a pill or something.”

      She resisted staring at his handsome face and let a grin float across hers. “What’s your name?”

      “Craig Jackson. And I hate needles. Please give me a pill for this pain.”

      “A