Lone Star Christmas. Cathy Thacker Gillen
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“How did that get in my pocket?”
Nash flashed a sexy grin as he held a sprig of mistletoe above Callie’s head.
He knew he wasn’t playing fair, using their attraction for each other to draw Callie all the way into the present. But there were times, like now, when it was the best way to make her see that the past was over. There was no use hiding behind it, not when they had a connection as fierce as the chemistry between them. Hooking the toe of his boot beneath the rung of a chair, he brought it all the way from the table and sank into it, dropping the mistletoe and pulling her onto his lap on the process. “Nash …”
He drew back to see into her eyes, knowing he didn’t need a cornball excuse to kiss her, touch her, hold her. “Kiss me, Callie …”
Wreathing her arms around his neck, she turned her head to his and smiled with a devastating mix of tenderness and mischief. “Is that your Christmas wish?”
He grinned. “One of them.”
Lone Star Christmas
Cathy Gillen Thacker
CATHY GILLEN THACKER is married and a mother of three. She and her husband spent eighteen years in Texas and now reside in North Carolina. Her mysteries, romantic comedies and heartwarming family stories have made numerous appearances on bestseller lists, but her best reward, she says, is knowing one of her books made someone’s day a little brighter. A popular Mills & Boon® author for many years, she loves telling passionate stories with happy endings, and thinks nothing beats a good romance and a hot cup of tea! You can visit Cathy’s website, www.cathygillenthacker.com, for more information on her upcoming and previously published books, recipes and a list of her favorite things.
Contents
Nash Echols dropped a fresh-cut Christmas tree onto the bed of a flatbed truck. Watched, as a luxuriously outfitted red SUV tore through the late November gloom and slammed to an abrupt stop on the old logging trail.
“Well, here comes trouble,” he murmured, when the driver door opened and two equally fancy peacock-blue boots hit the running board, then the ground.
His glance moved upward, taking in every elegant inch of the cowgirl marching toward him. He guessed the sassy spitfire to be in her early thirties, like him. She glared while she moved, her hands clapped over her ears to shut out the concurrent whine of a dozen power saws.
Nash lifted a leather-gloved hand.
One by one his crew stopped, until the Texas mountainside was eerily quiet, and only the smell of fresh-cut pine hung in the air. And still the determined woman advanced, chin-length dark brown curls framing her even lovelier face.
He eased off his hard hat and ear protectors.
Indignant color highlighting her delicately sculpted cheeks, she stopped just short of him and propped her hands on her slender denim-clad hips. “You’re killing me, using all those chain saws at once!” Her aqua-blue eyes narrowed. “You know that, don’t you?”
Actually, Nash hadn’t. And given the fact his crew had only been at this a few hours...
Her chin lifted another notch. “You have to stop!”
At that, he couldn’t help but laugh. It was one thing for this little lady to pay him an unannounced visit, another for her to try to shut him down. “Says who?” he challenged right back.
She angled her thumb at her sternum, unwittingly drawing his glance to her full, luscious breasts beneath the fitted red velvet western shirt, visible beneath her open wool coat. “Says me!”
He took in the hefty diamond engagement and wedding rings glinting on her left hand, squinted and asked in a way he knew would rankle, “Just out of curiosity, ma’am, does your husband know what you’re up to?”
For a moment, his uninvited visitor seemed caught off guard. Perplexed, almost. Then she stiffened and squared her shoulders, even more militantly. “For your information, cowboy, I don’t need ‘permission’ from anyone.”
Amused, he looked her over slowly, head to toe. “Then your husband wouldn’t mind you creating a ruckus?”
Another long, thoughtful pause. Followed by a glimmer of inscrutable emotion in her eyes. “No,” she said finally. And without another word, left it at that.
Which meant what? he wondered. Her husband was used to her temperamental ways? Or was just so weak he had no say? Her cagey expression gave no clue. Nash knew one thing, however. If she were his woman he wouldn’t want her out here, stirring up trouble with a group of cattle and