His Christmas Sweetheart. Cathy McDavid

be shy, but he wasn’t dense. He could be wearing a gunnysack over his head and not realize she wanted him to kiss her.

      More drastic measures were clearly called for.

      “Will?” She rose on tiptoe, their mouths close enough she could feel his warm breath on her skin.

      “Yeah?”

      “I’m not cold anymore.”

      “That’s good.”

      The horse nickered impatiently, but Miranda paid no heed. Her other arm joined her first as she anchored herself more securely to Will. “In fact, I’m quite comfortable.”

      He immediately stiffened and started to pull away.

      As if she would let that happen. “Dammit, Will. Enough with the game playing. Kiss me already.”

      “You don’t understand.”

      “You’re right. I don’t. But that’s no reason to stop.” Releasing an exasperated breath, she angled her head and planted her lips firmly on his.

      The earth didn’t move, bells didn’t ring and fireworks didn’t explode. Miranda might as well have been kissing the back of her own hand.

      Wasn’t that a disappointment.

      Honestly, how could she have been so mistaken? The kind of heat she’d seen lighting his eyes usually hid a blazing fire.

      No sense making a fool of herself any longer. She started to peel herself off him—only something held her in place and refused to let her go.

      That something was Will’s arm, locking itself firmly across the small of her back.

      “What are—” She didn’t have the chance to finish whatever random thought had popped into her head.

      Will’s mouth came down on hers, hot, hungry and all business. She let him take control, not that she had much of a choice, and found she didn’t mind in the least. He knew what he was doing.

      Sweet angels in heaven, what had possessed her to think the man couldn’t kiss?

      The earth moved, bells rang and fireworks exploded all at once, leaving Miranda light-headed. The sensation intensified when Will pushed her up against the hitching post. The hard surface kneading her back was ignored as the entire length of his body met and covered the entire length of hers.

      When his hand came up to cup the side of her face, she increased her hold on him, fusing their mouths even more firmly together. The resulting sizzle and sparks were off the charts. Miranda couldn’t recall ever being kissed with such fervor. She rather liked it and wanted him to go on and on.

      Only he didn’t. To her disappointment, Will released her. Frigid air instantly invaded her every pore, the chill even more noticeable after having been encased in the warm cocoon of his arms.

      “Sorry,” he muttered.

      “Why?” She grinned. “I liked it, in case you didn’t notice.”

      He stared at her, his gaze devouring.

      Miranda melted beneath it. Reaching for his cheek, she let her fingers trace the line of his bristled jaw. “We can go for round two, if you have a mind to.”

      Something in his expression changed. Before she could ask what was wrong, he pivoted and stepped into the stirrup. Swinging his leg over the saddle, he pointed the horse in the direction of the street and nudged it into a brisk trot.

      “Goodbye,” she called after him, but he didn’t acknowledge her. Dammit, had she scared him away? It wouldn’t surprise her.

      Miranda followed him as far as the street, watching him ride away as dusk quietly fell. She didn’t move for several minutes, despite the freezing temperature.

      That, she realized, was how it felt to be thoroughly kissed. And by Will Dessaro, of all people. Who’d have guessed?

      * * *

      WILL MANAGED TO stall his panic attack until he reached the outskirts of town. Then all his coping techniques proved worthless. It was his worst attack in years. Since the “Dear John” email he’d received from his ex-fiancée while stationed at Fort Huachuca in Arizona.

      Giving Rocket Dog her head, he let the mare carry him home. She didn’t seem bothered by his shaking, cold sweats and hyperventilating. When he could take no more, he bent forward over the saddle horn and waited for his heart to stop drilling a tunnel through his rib cage.

      He’d kissed Miranda. Kissed her like a crazed man. He would have done it again if not for getting the hell out of there when he did.

      What would she think if she saw him now, on the verge of passing out? Worse, what if the panic attack had struck while their lips were locked?

      She wouldn’t have wanted a round two. She wouldn’t want him anywhere near her house, either, Mrs. Litey or no Mrs. Litey.

      Eventually the attack receded. Though he didn’t feel like his old self, he regained enough control to maintain a semblance of normalcy. Taking stock of his surroundings, he fumbled for the reins.

      Rocket Dog was dutifully retracing her steps along the route they’d taken into town through the mountains. Will changed direction, opting for a quicker route that would have them home in a third of the time. He needed coffee. Better yet, a shot of whiskey. Anything, as long as it hit his stomach with the fiery jolt he craved.

      He’d kissed Miranda. His muddled brain had yet to fully process the shocking revelation. His body, however, recalled every moment in precise detail. The taste of her lips. The extraordinary sensation of her generous breasts pressed against his chest. Her tiny moan of pleasure when he’d backed her into the hitching post. Each memory reminded him of how many years it had been since he’d held a woman.

      She was everything he’d imagined. More than he’d hoped for. When she had first touched her lips to his, he’d been convinced he could hold out by not moving a muscle. Then his resolve had snapped and he’d practically manhandled her.

      Except she’d said she liked kissing him. Had clung to him as if she couldn’t get enough. It may have been a long time for Will, but he could tell when a response was genuine.

      No more and never again, he told himself. This was his one and only slip. He wouldn’t screw up his life, not after all the progress he’d made. Even for Miranda.

      Rocket Dog’s rhythmic clip-clopping on the hard-packed dirt road worked like a mantra and further calmed Will. By the time they passed through the Gold Nugget’s main gate, it was well after dark and he felt good enough to fool anyone he came in contact with. Except for Sam.

      As luck would have it, his boss was waiting for him at the horse corrals, standing in a pool of light cast by the flood lamp mounted overhead.

      “There was no envelope,” Will announced, and dismounted. Snowflakes were just starting to fall, melting the instant they landed.

      “No? I swear Mayor Dempsey told me she had one.” The smirk Sam wore erased any doubts Will might have been entertaining about a ruse. “Run into anyone interesting?”