Christmas Kisses For A Dollar. Laurie Paige
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His body surged to life at the thought.
Yeah, he could see what the big attraction was. If the line hadn’t been so long, he might have been tempted to join it.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he crossed the street to the store. It was locked. The sign in the window said the owner was at the bazaar and would open again at one.
Jon glanced at his watch. Five after twelve. He might as well eat lunch. If anything was open. For all he knew, the whole town had closed down to attend the event.
He headed across the street toward the school yard where there were several food booths. He spotted a hot-dog stand run by the rotary club. A sign explained that the proceeds of the bazaar were to go to a new gym for the local school. Well, he’d do his part for the community effort.
Another sweep of laughter sounded from the kissing booth. He paused in the shade of an oak tree about twenty feet away and watched as a bashful youth was egged on by his friends to take his kiss. When the boy handed over the dollar, the Venus in the kissing booth caught the kid by the ears and gave him a loud buss on the cheek. The boy blushed as red as the boiled shrimp on display at the seafood booth, but tossed his friends a proud grin as he strutted toward them across the lawn.
Heat swept over Jon and set a flame in his nether parts. There were certain circumstances during which he didn’t mind a woman holding on to his ears, either. He unobtrusively ran a hand down the front of his jeans to make sure he wasn’t about to bust his zipper. Good thing he’d put on briefs that morning.
He glanced at the hot-dog booth, pulled out his wallet, checked his money—he had six twenties—and gave a mental shrug. It was only money and it was for a good cause. He headed for the kissing line, tucking a bill into his shirt pocket as he went.
The guy in front of him was grinning like a weasel who’d found a hole in the henhouse as he waited for his turn to kiss the black-haired Venus. Jon disliked the man on sight.
“Hoo-wee,” the jerk said. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”
“Do you know who she is?” Jon asked.
“Yeah. Anne Hyden. I went to school with her. Never got a chance to get close enough to kiss her, though.” The chump was obviously relishing the thought.
A stab of irritation hit Jon. He suppressed it. “She have a steady or something back then?”
“Nah.” The guy frowned as he searched through his memory. “She didn’t date nobody. Too good for the locals, I guess. Her uncle was the mayor. He still is. I figured she’d marry some rich guy when she went off to a fancy school up north, but she didn’t. I hear she’s been seeing a senator.”
Jon rolled the name over his tongue. Anne…Anne Hyden. He liked it. He observed her as she accepted the quick, dry kisses with an easy humor and a no-nonsense manner.
The blood stirred aggressively in his groin area as he thought of how he’d like to kiss her…wet and deep and sensual, with lips and tongue and hands all involved. None of this namby-pamby, closed-mouth stuff.
Not that he would do that here in front of a crowd. After all, he had some finesse.
But it was something to think about while he waited his turn. He grinned. It wouldn’t be long. She kept the line moving at a rapid clip with her friendly little smooches and teasing remarks to the men, all of whom she seemed to know.
Of course, to live in a town the size of Richport for a week, and not know everyone, would be difficult.
“I don’t see how the mayor can put up with that kind of display,” a feminine voice remarked.
Jon peered under the oak branch and spied two young matrons sitting in the shade on the other side of the tree. He grinned at the look of sour grapes on the face of the plump woman who was fanning herself furiously while she and her friend gossiped.
“Well, she did bring in the most money in the shortest time last year,” the other woman replied. “And the pastor of the Methodist church was the first in line this morning.”
“Humph,” remarked the first woman, her fan swishing back and forth in rampant disapproval.
The line moved forward. Jon settled his white Stetson firmly on his head as the breeze kicked up a few dust swirls along the side of the road. Two more in front of him.
Then it was the jerk’s turn. Jon found himself tensing for action the way he used to when he worked as a bouncer in a bar, which had been his first job after leaving home. With an effort, he relaxed his shoulders and his stance.
The guy in front of him handed over his dollar. He reached both hands out and grabbed the smiling Venus by the waist. A flicker of emotion darted through her eyes. Jon tensed again.
“Well, Snooze Allyn,” she said brightly, laying a hand against the guy’s chest. “Are you still napping after lunch the way you used to in Mrs. Brown’s English class?”
Jon relaxed when the jerk’s ears turned red. The lout let go of her waist. “Nah. My boss don’t like it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, bosses are like that.” She held up her cheek to him. He dipped and took a quick peck at it, then ambled off with a cocky grin.
Jon saw the suppressed amusement in her eyes before she turned to him. “Violet,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?” Her expression became inquiring and, he thought, wary. Several emotions flickered through the intriguing depths. She pressed a hand against her chest as if disturbed by something.
His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Your eyes. Blue with gray and a touch of violet. It’s a lethal combination.”
He couldn’t believe he’d said that…and in the sexiest voice he’d ever used on a woman—low and vibrant, as if they were already making love. A wave of hunger swept over him, stronger than anything he’d ever felt.
Her smile wavered for an instant, then reasserted itself. “You’re holding up the line,” she informed him. “Let’s see the color of your money, cowboy, else you’ll have to step aside.”
He placed the folded bill in her outstretched hand and pushed his hat out of the way. “Let me know when I’ve used this up,” he said and reached for her.
Anne glanced at the twenty he laid in her hand. Her heart started pounding again, the way it had when she’d first spied him staring at her from the shade of the old oak tree. His gaze had been so intent, fathoms deep and similar to the look of a hunter on the prowl. It had intrigued her and sent sensations spiraling into the innermost parts of her.
She scowled as her imagination went haywire, offering up all sorts of exotic wonders as she looked at his mouth. If he was determined to get his money’s worth, the kiss would go on rather long, the inane thought came to her.
Dumbfounded, she watched while he bent his head toward her. She got a glimpse of dark hair slanting across the brow of a narrow face with a strong chin, a thin nose and eyes that were silvery gray with a blue-gray line around the iris.
Staring into his eyes, she found she couldn’t look away. His gaze was intense…passionate…and other things she couldn’t name. Who was he?
She found herself caught up in a pair of arms that felt as strong and ropy as rawhide. The cowboy was on the slender side, an inch or so under six feet, but she sensed the strength he kept in check as his embrace pulled her forward and off-balance.
The wooden edge of the booth caught her at mid-thigh; then she felt heat all the way along the front of her body as she fell against the cowboy, dependent upon his strength to hold her up. She heard him give a grunt, then his arms tightened.
His lips hovered over hers, two inches away…one inch…a breath…
Alarm invaded every part of her, and for the life of her she couldn’t think of anything to say that would distract him from his