Kiss Me Katie! & Hug Me Holly! (4 page)

But oddly enough, he was taking this very seriously. “I know you're trying to get Matt to discuss your Christmas party kiss, but there's a good reason he won't.”

“I know.” She grimaced. “It's because I'm Christmas cursed. I never should have made that stupid Christmas wish.”

“You're…Christmas cursed?”

“Let's just say Santa seems to lose my address.”

“And the Christmas wish thing?”

“It's no big deal.”

“Oh, I think it probably is.”

“Okay, fine, I made a stupid wish to…” She blushed. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Well, you're a man…”

“Yes.” He had to smile. “That was too easy, try another question.”

She rolled her eyes. “Forget it, just forget it. It's not important.”

Yes, it was, he could see that much. But so was this. “About that kiss, Katie—”

“I'd like to forget that, too.”

“Sorry, no can do.” He'd never forget it. “Matt can't discuss this with you. He can't, Katie, because
I'm
the one who shared that kiss with you.”

Her mouth worked.

Opened.

Closed.

Opened again. “I kissed Matt,” she finally managed to say. “In the Santa costume.”

“No. You kissed me. In the Santa costume. And I think you already know it.”

“No.”

“Yes. Otherwise, how would I know about it?” He tried to smile, but truthfully the memory of her in that dress, pressed against him, her mouth on his, pretty much made it difficult. “I know if you think about it, you'll see the truth. You've nearly recognized me every single day since.”

“In your dreams.”

“Really? Then why are you always staring at me?”

“I am
not
always staring at you!”

When he only waited patiently, she blew out a frustrated breath. “Much,” she muttered.

“I'm flattered,” he said.

“Don't be! I did not kiss you!”

“I could prove it to you, if you'd like.”

H
E COULD
prove it to her.

Oh, Lord.

Katie's palms were clammy, her heart raced.

The flu, she decided. It was just the flu coming on.

Which didn't explain why the thought of him “proving it” to her had her nipples hard and achy.

Bryan kept his distance, but she felt the heat of him, the power in his big frame all the same, and she knew if she slid her arms around his neck and pressed close he'd make a rough, appreciative growl—

No. This was most definitely a road she did not want to travel.

Normally she was an easygoing person. Quiet and reserved, maybe even a little mousy, but she was working on that. And yet she wasn't easygoing now. “How could you prove something that never happened?” she asked with remarkable—and totally false—calm.

“By kissing you again.”

She stared at him, and it wasn't a loss of words that made speaking difficult, but that she had so much to say and no rationale left in which to say it. “No, you can't kiss me.”

“Again. You mean I can't kiss you
again.
”

“There was never a first time!”

He leaned closer so that she was surrounded by him. “I have six sisters,” he confided in a voice that managed to convey both his affection and love for his family. “That's six nosy, bossy, demanding and completely wonderful
females.
”

She did not want to know this about him. She wanted to picture him as wild, uncaring and…well, a jerk.

He felt safer that way.

But nothing about this man was safe. Nothing.

“So trust me on this one,” he continued. “I learned early to never disagree with a woman, but I'm very sorry to say you're wrong.”

Did he have to stand so close? She could see his eyes weren't just a
little
blue, but all the way, ocean-deep, drown-in-me blue. Terrific. Not only did he love his family, but he had amazing eyes.

Not fair.

He also had a scar that ran along the line of his dark brow, probably from doing something crazy.

Realizing she was staring at him, and that he was enjoying that very thing, she turned on her heels and moved toward the storage warehouse. She didn't need anything, but she felt so flustered, so uncustomarily unnerved, she opened it, flipped on the light and stepped inside.

Okay, think.

She'd kissed Santa Claus, she knew this much for certain. The rest was pure speculation. She knew what she wanted. She wanted Santa to have been Matt. Wanted
Matt
to have hoarsely whispered her name with longing. Wanted
Matt
to have been the one to put his hands on her and gently squeeze as if he could never get enough of her.

Nice, dependable, kind Matt. Grown-up Matt. Perfect Matt.

She had no doubt it had been him, none whatsoever.

None.

Mostly none.

This wasn't good. In fact, this was bad, very bad.

“You're thinking about it, aren't you?” Bryan whispered.

“No.”

“Liar.”

“If you have six sisters, you also know it's not exactly flattering to call a woman a liar.”

He grinned.

“I bet you're the baby of the family,” she said without thinking, and his grin widened.

“Oh, I am. Spoiled rotten, too. And you know what else? You're interested in me. I like that.” He settled even closer and smiled at her. “What else can I tell you?”

“Why you'd want to play footsy with Holly.”

His smile faded.
Honestly
faded. “Holly is the last person on earth I would play footsy with,” he said. “That woman is dangerous.”

“Men like that.”

“Men like excitement, not danger, not in a woman anyway.”

“Uh-huh,” she said in a tone that could be construed as nothing other than sarcasm.

“Tell me this much,” he said, strangely intent. “Did you see me egging her on? Or did you see me move away from her as quickly as I could?”

She thought about that. “You moved away from her.”

“Like a mouse out of a snake's path.”

That made her laugh. “You're hardly a mouse.” But she could concede that maybe what she'd seen in the meeting
had
been one-sided. There were,
however, other issues here. Personal issues. Bryan may be charming when he wanted, but he wasn't serious. At least not about women. And she
was
serious. She wanted a
serious
man.

“Ask me something else,” he encouraged. “Go on, try me.”

“Okay…why did you take that terribly dangerous stunt job yesterday morning?”

“It wasn't that dangerous.”

“I watched you pull out of that spin with only seconds to spare.” She hadn't meant to say it, hadn't meant to sound so worried.

“You watched.”

Oh, yeah, she'd watched. Watched and bitten her nails down to the quick with anxiety she hadn't wanted to feel. “You fly with wild, reckless abandon.”

“Thank you.”

“That wasn't a compliment!”

“I'm careful, and highly skilled.”

He was talented, she'd give him that. “I just don't know why you have to do it like that, as if each second was going to be your last.”

“Katie, I
live
like that.”

She backed up until she came up against a shelving unit, which she gripped at her sides with fisted
hands. “
Exactly.
You live like that. Which is the reason…which is why—” Horrified, she broke off.

“Why what? Why you can't admit it was me you kissed?”

How to explain that she had a precise definition of what she wanted in a man and he was the exact opposite? She wanted the three
S
's. Security, safety, stability. She didn't want to be afraid for his life on a daily basis. She didn't want someone who made her feel as if she were on a perpetual roller coaster.

She hated roller coasters!

As if he could read her mind, his good humor vanished, replaced by an intensity she didn't know how to handle, and he once again closed the distance between them. Now she could feel the warmth of his breath on her temple as he quietly studied her. “Was it that bad? The kiss?”

She studied her shoes. The ceiling. The wall. Anything other than his serious and oh-so-gorgeous face.

But he didn't give up.

“Did I kiss like a Saint Bernard?” he asked. “Did I have breath like a whale? What?”

She couldn't help it, she laughed. “I'm not admitting anything, mind you, but no, not bad breath. Not too much slobber. It was…”

“Yes?”

“A twenty on a scale of one to ten,” she admitted.

He smiled, not a cocky one, but it still made her roll her eyes and look away. Until he caught her chin in his fingers and turned her back to him.

“Why don't you like me?” he asked softly, and when she opened her mouth to deny this, he gently slid those fingers against her lips.

At his touch, a bewildering tightness invaded her insides. Her eyes widened on his. She saw his jaw tighten, felt his fingers tense, and wondered if he felt the same confusion.

“Truth,” he whispered. “For months and months now you've done your damnedest to avoid me. Changing directions in the hallway, sitting far away in staff meetings, dealing with my pilots when you need something, instead of dealing with me. Why, Katie? At least tell me why.”

One last stroke with his fingers and then he lifted them away from her lips, but he didn't move, so that when she tipped her head up to look at him, her mouth was only inches from his. It shocked her to realize her body was straining closer to him, and once again she flattened herself against the shelving unit. “It's not that I don't like you. But we have nothing in common.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, other than us being day and night? Oil and vinegar—”

“
Concrete
reasons. No cheating with silly metaphors.”

“Okay, well…I'm plain. And you're—”
Outrageously sexy.
“
Not
plain,” she finished lamely.

“Neither are you.”

“Then you're too tall.”

He laughed. “Chicken excuse, but I'll let you have it. What else?”

“I like everything planned out.”

“And I don't?”

“You'd jump off a cliff on a whim.”

“If I had a good rope, maybe.”

“See? Polar opposites. That's us.”

“That's not completely true.” His voice was low, husky, his direct gaze like a caress. “We both love airplanes.”

“How—” How could he have known about her secret passion and love of planes? That she hoarded and devoured every book she could find, every picture, every magazine. That sometimes, late at night, she wandered through the hangars and just looked at the planes that so fascinated and terrified her at the same time?

“I've seen you.” He lifted a finger and tucked
a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. The touch electrified her. “I've seen the look of longing and passion on your face as you've touched a sleek Lear, seen your yearning. Why don't you fly, Katie? What keeps you grounded?”

“My father,” she confided before she could stop herself, and this time it was
her
who covered
his
mouth. “Don't. Don't ask, I don't want to talk about it.”

His hand came up and circled her wrist. When he spoke, his lips tickled her palm. “We should.”

“No. Look, it's nothing personal.”

“I think it is.”

“I just…” Lord, it was hard to think. She had her hand on his mouth, his very
sexy
mouth, and she couldn't tear her gaze from it, even when it curved with satisfaction. “I'm not much of a risk taker.”

His eyes sparkled at that. “You're here alone in the warehouse with me, aren't you? Seems pretty risky to me. Tell me, what drew you to Santa that night? What made you want to kiss him?”

“I'm not going to tell you that!”

“Please?”

“This is silly. It doesn't matter to you.”

“Tell me.”

“It was Matt.”

“Matt.”

“Yes. He's dependable. Reliable. He's—”

“Mr. Perfect.” He shook his head even as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I've heard the women talk about him.”

“Then you already knew what attracted me.”

“Dependability? Reliability?” He made a face. “Sounds like a car. A new one, when we all know it's the
used
models, the coveted and experienced and loved ones, that have all the nerve and personality.”

“Bryan—”

His eyes flashed now, still with good humor, but with something more as well. “
I
was Santa, Katie. And I'm going to prove it to you.”

“No!” Not stopping to think about her sudden, irrational fear, Katie ducked from between the shelving unit and his body, not stopping to look at him until she had the door handle firmly in her hand and opened.

Bryan lifted his hands. “I wasn't going to prove it
that
way.”

“Oh.” She felt dense. “I just thought—”

“I know what you thought. That I was going to kiss you again. But if I wasn't Santa that night, if I wasn't the one to give you that kiss—which must have been a helluva doozy, by the way, to have
made such an impression—you have nothing to worry about, right?”

“Um…yeah. Right.”

He laughed softly then, a terrifyingly sexy sound that made the butterflies go to town on Katie's stomach again.

“How about I prove to you that it
was
me, but in another way?” he suggested.

Warily she eyed him. “How?”

“And when I do—” he completely ignored her question “—you're going to admit you were wrong. Out loud this time. To
me.
”

She still had one foot out the door. She was safe. Yeah, safe as a name caller in a glass house. “I have no problem admitting my mistakes,” she said so stiffly he laughed again. “But I'm not wrong here.”

“Uh-huh. We'll see. Dependability. Reliability? Those are the things you need?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He looked slightly disgusted, but resigned. “Damn. I was afraid you were going to say that.”

 

A
FEW DAYS LATER
, Bryan was in the middle of a final check, trying to get out of Wells for the day, when he heard a strange noise coming from the opened cockpit of his plane.

He set down his clipboard and walked around the Cessna, his mind a million miles away.

He was thinking fondly of mistletoe and sexy red Christmas dresses. He was thinking of warm, vulnerable, whiskey-colored eyes, and sweet-scented, shoulder-length hair brushing over his arms as he leaned into the kiss that had rocked his world.

Was
still
rocking his world.

It had been a week.

Seven days.

One-hundred-sixty-eight hours.

He didn't know how many minutes, but for an admitted adrenaline junkie, he was dying for another rush.

Another kiss.

He'd tried his damnedest to appear to be the model citizen whenever Katie was around. Dependable. Reliable.

He did it all.

He tried so hard his head hurt. What was he doing? Why did he even care? Was he that egotistical that he couldn't let it go?

So Katie wanted neat and simple Matt, who was sedate enough to put a gorilla to sleep without effort.

In contrast, she thought Bryan wild. Uncontrollable.

That sound came from the cockpit again, and he climbed up the landing stairs of the sleek plane to peek inside.

Nothing.

He went in, took a step toward the cockpit, then froze when the door slammed behind him.

“What the—” He turned back just as a soft weight plowed into him. “Oof.” The backs of his knees hit a low seat, tripping him, and he crashed into the wall of the plane.