Christmas Kisses For A Dollar. Laurie Paige
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working double time. The word hardly had time to form before his mouth touched hers. Her tongue accidentally stroked his lips.
She sensed his surprise, or maybe it was shock, for his chest surged upward against hers as he caught his breath, and his arms tightened in a convulsive embrace.
For the first time in his life, Jon forgot the basic tenet of self-preservation: Always keep your wits. Always.
When he grazed her lips and felt her tongue glide over his mouth, it was as if he’d been hit by a bolt of lightning. It burned out every thought of survival he’d ever had.
He only knew one thing: this was the woman he had to have. It was that simple.
And at the moment, that was enough—that he was holding her, kissing her. And it was the best thing he’d ever known.
She was warm and curvy in his arms, and she smelled like a summer garden after a light rain. Her fragrance wafted about them, becoming stronger as the heat between them intensified. He was drenched in hot desire.
Her hands clutched his shirt. She caught her breath and held it. Triumph flared briefly as he sensed her surprise, then the response she couldn’t hide.
“Mmm,” she crooned.
She slipped her hands into his hair, pulling it sharply as the passion increased. He cradled her head in one hand and took the kiss deeper, harder.
Vaguely, he heard noises around him, but the words didn’t penetrate the hazy fog of delight.
Then the Venus with the midnight hair collapsed in his arms.
Startled, he took her full weight as her head tilted back and she went totally limp. He stared at her, then realization dawned. She’d fainted.
“Young fool,” someone snarled behind him. “What do you think you’re doing—manhandling her like that?”
Someone grabbed his shoulder. Jon shrugged off the hand. Bending slightly, he hoisted Anne Hyden in his arms, lifted her clear of the booth and turned.
He faced an angry mob, all glaring at him. He glared back.
“Where should I take her?” he asked a woman who pushed her way forward and bent over Anne. “Someplace quiet,” he added, with a narrow-eyed warning holding off the school chum who’d kissed Anne before him.
“Her house,” the woman said, releasing Anne’s wrist after counting her pulse. Her eyes sparkled at him as if she found the whole incident amusing. She pointed. “Over there.”
He saw a white frame house nestled among hibiscus bushes across the side street from the school. He headed for it, the older woman brushing the crowd aside to let him through. Finally, he was in the clear.
Behind him, the older woman—a nurse by her actions—ordered the line to form again and took Anne’s place in the kissing booth. He heard several groans of disappointment.
An arm crept around his neck. He glanced down at the woman he held. Her eyes were still closed. Her cheeks were flushed an attractive pink, her breath came quickly between parted lips and her heart pounded. Her head slumped forward, nestling against his shoulder as if she’d often snuggled in his arms.
In his dreams, he thought, and wished they were on their way to a romantic tryst at that moment. She felt like an angel, light and ethereal, yet warm and womanly, too.
The door was open when he reached the house with its neat shrubs and flower borders. He went inside and laid the luscious burden on a comfortable-looking sofa.
He removed her shoes and swung her legs up. After putting a cushion under her head, he knelt and observed her closely, an odd anxiety constricting his chest. Surely he hadn’t hurt her.…
Bending, he gave her a closer perusal. “Okay,” he said after a silent minute, “you can open your eyes now.”
The thick black lashes fluttered, then popped up, and he stared into eyes the color of wood violets.
Anne was reluctant to give up the lovely experience of being in his arms. She placed a hand against her chest where her heart still beat in an irregular pattern. When she’d felt his lips on hers, it had nearly pounded out of her chest. Strange, to react so strongly to a kiss.
She’d reacted to him before that, she admitted. There had been a stabbing pang in her chest when she’d noticed him that first time, when he’d stood under the oak tree and watched her before making up his mind about buying a kiss.
She pulled herself together and glanced around. “Good, we’re alone.” She managed a wry smile.
He frowned at her. “What the hell was the fainting act about?” he demanded.
“I didn’t want you to get beat up or arrested for mauling me,” she explained, her sense of humor coming to the fore as her heart slowed and its beat evened out. She didn’t want him to know his kiss had affected her to the point of fainting. It sounded so utterly Victorian.
She sat up and swung her legs to the side, knees bent. She saw his gaze roam their length as she tucked her skirt around them, and she felt another flutter within her chest.
“Who was going to do the honors?” he asked in a dry voice. “The jerk you went to school with?”
“Snooze?” She laughed, regaining her equilibrium at this safe topic. “No, not him.”
He smiled, too, not cynically, but seemingly relaxed now that he knew she was all right. “Why would I get arrested?” he asked. “You were the one selling kisses. I was merely trying to get my money’s worth.”
“Twenty dollars,” she murmured, curious about him. “Do you always throw money away like that?”
She licked her lips when he continued to stare at her mouth as if he were thinking of starting the kiss all over again. “I didn’t consider it a waste.”
“It was too intimate for a public kiss.” She frowned at him. “And you didn’t quit when I pulled your hair.”
“I thought that was because you were excited, too.” He shook his head. “That never happened to me before.”
“What?”
“Getting lost in a kiss like that.”
Jon took in the delicate picture she presented. The heat, which hadn’t gone completely, surged anew. He wanted to strip her of the angelic outfit and find the devilish imp he detected deep in her gorgeous eyes.
“Black Irish,” he murmured, mesmerized all over again.
Her eyebrows lifted in question. They were as black as her hair and lashes, with a pronounced arch like a gull’s wing.
“That’s what my grandmother called my grandfather. He had Irish blue eyes, but hair as black as sin. She said it was the Spanish blood that got mixed in from sailors washing ashore after the defeat of the Armada.”
Anne smiled with delight at his story. She saw his silvery gaze flick to her lips once more. She remembered the taste of him when she’d tried to protest the kiss she could see coming but couldn’t get the word out in time.
With an effort, she resisted an urge to lick her lips again to see if she could still taste him there. That kiss had rocked her…right to her toes. A first for her, too.
His mouth was intriguing. The bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top. Both were well-defined, as if outlined by the artist who’d carved him from living marble.
“Keep looking at me like that and you might go into a real faint at my next kiss.”
Her heart did a tap dance against her chest. The pull was there between them. She backed off, using humor as a defense. “Yeah?” she challenged. “I’m waiting with a worm on my tongue.”
His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A what?”
“Bated