Christmas Kisses Collection. Louise Allen
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What perfume are you wearing?”
“Cecilia sprayed me with some stuff earlier. I honestly don’t know what it’s called, just that she said it was guaranteed to drive you crazy. Of course, she didn’t tell me that until after she’d hit me with a spray.”
He nuzzled against her hair. “She was right.”
“Feeling a little crazy?”
“With your body rubbed up against mine? Oh, yeah.”
She laughed. “I’ll let her know the stuff works.”
“Pretty sure if you had nothing on at all I’d be feeling just as crazy. Actually, if you had nothing on at all, my current level of crazy would be kid’s stuff in comparison.”
She wiggled closer against him. “Well, that makes sense. We’re both just kids at heart.”
“True, that.” His hands rubbed against her low back. “Were you thinking about our coworkers just a few minutes ago?”
She knew when he meant and at that time it hadn’t been thoughts of their coworkers that had robbed her of her smile. No, it had been thoughts of what she was anticipating happening later in the evening. Not that she was sure that’s what would happen, but she’d questioned it enough that she’d shaved, lotioned, powdered, perfumed and dressed in her sexiest underwear.
Because all week Lance had kissed her good-night, deep, thorough passionate kisses that had left her longing for more. She hadn’t invited him in and he hadn’t pushed. Just hot good-night kisses night after night that left her confused and aching.
Mostly, she just didn’t understand why he hadn’t attempted to talk his way into her bed. Or at least into her house. He’d still not made it off the front porch.
He might not push for more tonight either. She was okay with it if he didn’t. It was just that something had felt different between them today on the Christmas float, and afterward when they’d weaved their way from one booth to another. All week she’d felt as if she was building up to something great. From the moment he’d picked her up at her house this evening and had been so obviously pleased with the way she looked and how she’d greeted him—with lots of smiles—the feeling had taken root inside her that tonight held magical possibilities that she wasn’t sure she really wanted in the long run, but in the short term, oh, yeah, she wanted Lance something fierce, thus the itsy-bitsy, barely-there thong.
“Should I be concerned about how quiet you are?” he asked.
“Nope. I’m just enjoying the dance.”
“Any regrets?”
His question caught her off guard and she pulled back enough to where she could see his face. “About?”
“Coming to the party with me.”
“Not yet.”
He chuckled. “You expecting that to change?”
“Depends on your behavior between now and the time we leave.”
“Then I guess I better be on my best, eh?”
“Something like that.”
Not that she could imagine Lance not being on his best behavior at all times. He was always smiling, doing something to help others. Never had she met a man who volunteered more. It was as if his life’s mission was to do as much good as he possibly could in the world. Or at least within their small community.
The music changed to an upbeat number and they danced to a few more songs. The emcee for the evening stopped the music and made several announcements, gave away a few raffle items.
“Now, folks.” The emcee garnered their attention. “I’d like to call Dr. Lance Spencer to the stage.”
Lance glanced at her. “Do you know anything about this?”
McKenzie shook her head. She didn’t have a clue.
Pulling McKenzie along with him, he headed up toward the makeshift stage. She managed to free her hand just before he stepped up onto the stage. No way was he taking her up there with him. Who knew what was about to happen? Maybe he had won a raffle or special door prize or something.
“Dr. Spencer,” the emcee continued, “I’m told you make a mean emcee.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘mean,’” Lance corrected, laughing.
“Well, a little birdie tells me you’ve been known to rock a karaoke machine and requested you sing to kick off our karaoke for the evening.”
Lance glanced at McKenzie, but she shook her head. That little birdie wasn’t her.
Always in the spirit of things, Lance shrugged, and told the emcee the name of a song. As the music started, microphone in hand, he stepped off the stage and took McKenzie’s hand again.
“I need a singing partner.”
Her heart in her nonsinging throat, McKenzie shook her head. He wasn’t doing this. She didn’t want to make a spectacle of them by pulling her hand free of his, but her feet were about to take off at any moment, which meant he was either coming with her, hands clasped and all, or she’d be doing exactly that.
“Come on,” he encouraged. “Don’t be shy. Sing with me, McKenzie. It’ll be fun.”
By this time, the crowd was also really into the spirit of things and urging her onto the stage. She heard a female doctor whose office was right next to hers call out for her to go for it.
McKenzie’s heart sank. She wasn’t going to be able to run away. Not this time. She was surrounded by her coworkers. Her hand was held by Lance.
She was going to have to go onstage and sing. With Lance. Nothing like a little contrast to keep things interesting.
A singer she was not.
She closed her eyes.
What had been a great night had just gone sour. Very, very sour.
She blamed Lance.
Lance realized he’d made a mistake the moment he’d put McKenzie on the spot. Unfortunately, his request wasn’t something she could easily refuse with their coworkers now cheering for her to join him. She could either sing or be seen as a total party pooper—which she wasn’t and he knew she’d resent being labeled as one.
McKenzie’s eyes flashed with fear and he wasn’t sure what all else.
He’d messed up big time.
Faking a smile, she stepped up onto the stage with him. He still held her hand. Her palm was sweaty and her fingers threatened to slip free. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. She didn’t even look at him.
Lance sang and McKenzie came through from time to time, filling the backup role rather than taking a lead with him, as he’d initially hoped. Mostly, she mumbled, except during the chorus. With almost everyone in the crowd singing along, too, maybe no one noticed.
McKenzie noticed, though. The moment the song was over, she gave him the evil eye. “For the record, I don’t sing and if you ever do that to me again, it’ll be the last time.”
“That’s funny,” he teased, planning to keep their conversation light, to beg her forgiveness if he needed to. “I just heard you do exactly that.”
“Only a tone-deaf lunatic would call what I just did singing.”
“I thought you sounded good.”
“You don’t count.”
“Ouch.” He put his hand over his heart as if she’d delivered a fatal blow. “My references say I count.”
She flashed an annoyed look his way. “You’re really going