Mistletoe and Holly (11 page)

“Two shakes of a lamb’s tail and we’re done,” Leslie announced, turning on her crutches and finding Tagg blocking her way.

“It didn’t take very long, did it?” he curved an arm around her and gathered her body to his length. His hand moved caressingly over her cheek, down her neck, and tunneled under her hair. “Do you think they’ll miss us? It sounds like Holly has your aunt occupied.”

“Yes, it does.” Her pulse accelerated under his touch, heat running through her veins. The sound of it hammering in her ears was about all she could hear and his face was blocking everything else out of her vision.

Her head was tipped backwards under the pressure of his moist kiss as his mouth rocked hungrily over her lips, eating at their softness. Then he was driving her lips apart and she was tasting the lingering spice on his tongue. Her breath was coming deep and fast, reacting to this intimate stimulation while a fiery inner glow seemed to melt her bones.

His attention gradually shifted to her cheekbone, the corner of her eye and the lobe of her ear. His nibbling and nuzzling sent off fresh waves of sensation, quivering over her nerve ends. She leaned more heavily against him, arching her spine to get closer to him still, yet her hands instinctively kept their grip on her crutches.

“Aunt Patsy is going to start wondering what’s keeping us?” Leslie whispered against his skin.

“I’ll bet she’s already figured it out,” he said thickly. His mouth searched out the corner of her lips, nuzzling it and letting their breath mingle. “Kiss me, Leslie.”

She turned her lips into his mouth, a silent moan getting no farther than her throat. The shattering completeness of his kiss unleashed a greater need inside. Whirled away on this tide of intense longing, she forgot everything else and moved to put her arm around him.

Her crutches clattered to the floor with a resounding crash!

For a split second, it startled both of them, jarring them apart. Leslie realized instantly what she’d done and muttered impotently, “Damn this broken leg.”

Running feet were already tearing toward the kitchen from the living room as Tagg bent down to
retrieve the crutches. He was just handing them to her when Holly burst into the room.

“What happened?” she asked in wide-eyed alarm. “What was that racket?”

“Leslie dropped her crutches. It made a lot of noise, but that’s all,” Tagg assured her.

Her aunt appeared in the doorway behind Holly. “She didn’t fall did she?”

“No,” Leslie answered for herself. “The crutches just slipped out of my hands.”

“Boy, it really scared me!” Holly declared, holding a hand to her throat. “I thought something terrible had happened.”

“Nothing did,” Tagg repeated. “You’d better get your things together. It’s long past your bedtime.”

“That’s okay. I don’t have school tomorrow. It’s Saturday, remember?” she protested that the evening had to draw to a close so soon.

“Saturday or not, it’s time you were in bed,” he insisted, and crossed the kitchen to take his coat off the wall hook. “Thanks again for the cider and the gingerbread, Mrs. Evans.”

“She said I could call her Aunt Patsy if I wanted,” Holly informed him as she tried to get her arm into the other coat sleeve.

“Then tell her goodnight and thanks.” Tagg helped her find the opening.

“Goodnight, Aunt Patsy, and thanks for everything.” Now that the decision was made to leave, she wasn’t taking any time over it. “Goodnight, Leslie.”

“Goodnight.” To Tagg, she added, “Thanks for asking me along tonight.”

“Jingle Bells, Holly, and all.” His mouth twitched with a brief smile before his glance shifted down to her lips, then he was reaching for the door and pushing Holly toward it. “Goodnight, Mrs. Evans.”

After they had gone, her aunt walked over to the sink. “I’ll wash up those dishes, Aunt Patsy,” Leslie volunteered.

“There isn’t even a good sinkful here. We’ll do them with the breakfast dishes in the morning. I thought that you might have gotten your hands wet because you’d put them to soak. But I guess your crutches fell for some other reason.” Her aunt didn’t elaborate on what she thought the reason might be.

“Yes, I guess so.”

“There’s enough cider here for two more mugs.” Her aunt checked the contents of the pan. “Shall we finish it?”

“Sure.” Leslie moved to get the mugs.

“I’ve been thinking,” her aunt began. “Maybe we
should ask Taggart and his daughter to come over Christmas Eve and have oyster stew with us.”

“I think that would be a nice idea,” Leslie agreed. “Maybe I could buy a little something for Holly—for a Christmas present.”

“You could,” her aunt nodded in an approving manner.

“I’ll do it tomorrow,” Leslie decided.

The next morning was as bright and clear as the previous night had been, and the temperature was almost as cold despite the golden sun shining down. Bundled up in her heavy jacket, gloves, and ski cap, Leslie was humming to herself as she did her three-legged walk down the driveway to the sidewalk.

“Where are you going, Leslie?” Holly came racing out of the house, her snow jacket unzipped and flopping open, and the hood barely staying on her head.

“I thought I’d walk into town. I need the exercise.” She waited by the edge of the shoveled sidewalk while Holly came to a puffing stop beside her.

“Would you do me a favor?” Holly fumbled around, trying to get her hands into her pockets.

“What?” Leslie asked, discovering it was always wiser to ask first before agreeing.

“Will you mail this for me?” She finally found the crumpled envelope she had tucked in her pocket.

“Sure.” Leslie took the envelope and slipped it into the coat pocket with her change purse.

“Thanks loads. Daddy doesn’t know I’m outside, so I gotta go. Bye!” With a wave of her hand, Holly raced back for the house.

The village’s small post office happened to be first along her route. Leslie paused by the drop box and reached in her pocket for the letter. When she checked to make sure it had a stamp, she noticed the address.

It read simply: “Santa Claus, North Pole.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered to herself and slipped the letter into the mail slot.

The village was small so naturally there were few stores and the selection of gifts for an almost-seven-year-old girl was limited. Leslie did find a couple of books that had been her favorites when she was about Holly’s age, so she bought them and a hand-made bookmark. No doubt she’d get toys aplenty from Tagg—and Santa Claus.

With the wrapped parcel clamped between her arm and the crutch, she set off for her aunt’s house again. A half a block away, she could hear Holly’s giggling laughter. The bottom torso of a snowman
was sitting in the middle of Tagg’s front yard, but he was forgotten as Tagg and Holly hurled snowballs at each other.

Leslie watched them with a trace of sadness. Once she and her father had played like that—carefree and innocent. But that was long ago—before the arguments and bitter fights became so frequent. She hobbled forward, her head downcast.

A flying missile hit her shoulder with solid impact, splattering icy bits of snow onto her face. It knocked her off-balance. She heard Tagg shout as the tip of her crutch slid on a patch of ice. A startled cry came from her throat as she realized she was falling.

Out of instinct, she twisted her body to shield her broken limb and attempt to aim herself at the deep snow piled beside the walk. She landed hard, the packed snow making a crunching sound beneath. For the first few seconds, she was too shocked to move while her mind made a swift mental check to see if she was hurt. Nothing seemed to be damaged but her pride. She pushed a hand into the snow to lever herself upright.

Tagg came to a skidding stop beside her spraying snow in her face again. He dropped to one knee, bending over her. “Leslie, are you all right? I swear I didn’t see you when I threw that snowball.”

“I think I’m all right,” she murmured shakily. “Better let me help you up,” he said and began to tunnel an arm under her side to lift her.

The shock of the fall had worn off, leaving a small, but vengeful anger in its place. Her gloved fingers dug into the snow, snatching up a handful which she tossed in his face as she turned as if to aid him in lifting her.

His head jerked backwards as he sputtered and wiped at the snow that clung to his eyelashes and mouth. His look was first filled with surprise, then retaliatory amusement.

Off to the side, Holly laughed and jumped up and down. “She got you, Daddy!”

“You little witch,” Tagg growled at Leslie, but his humor-riddled tone took any menace from his voice.

“You deserved that,” she retorted and finished the turn so she could sit up and begin brushing the snow off her.

Out of the corner of her eye, Leslie saw Tagg reach down and scoop up a handful of snow. It triggered a warning of his intentions. With upraised arms, Leslie tried to shield herself from the expected snowball, but Tagg caught at her hand instead. He paid no attention to her laughter-laced outcry of protest as she struggled with him, warding
off the hand with the snow. His strength and pressing weight was forcing her backward.

“Watch my leg!” she warned him with a squeal and tried to dodge the hand attempting to rub the snow in her face.

Breathless laughter was claiming both of them as they tumbled onto the snowbank, Tagg taking care to stay away from her legs. When he couldn’t reach her face, he pushed the handful of snow down her neck. Leslie shrieked at the sudden cold against her skin and tried to do the same to him.

But he caught her wrist. A second later, her arms were pinned against the snow and the upper part of his body was lying across her to hold her down. Out of breath and laughing, Leslie stopped struggling and glanced at the male face above her. His mouth was parted in a panting smile of triumph.

“Give up?” Tagg asked, breathing hard from the short tussle in the cold, morning air.

“Yes.” Her admission of defeat came out on a puffing breath.

His hold on her forearms relaxed, but it wasn’t taken away. In the twinkling of an eye, the playful atmosphere changed and became charged with an elemental tension. Her breaths lengthened out under the darkening glitter of his gaze while her swiftly racing pulse took on a disturbed beat.

An awareness ran through both of them at the intimate positions of their prone bodies. The searching probe of his gaze moved over her face and became diverted by her parted lips. More of his weight began to settle onto her as Tagg began to slowly lower his head.

“Aren’t you going to let her up, Daddy?” Holly’s puzzled question short-circuited the volatile currents running between them.

Turning his head to the side, Tagg dragged in a deep breath and shifted his hold to clasp her arms. As he straightened backward, he pulled Leslie with him, sitting her up. The wryness in his blue eyes showed an amused regret when he met Leslie’s sparkling glance.

“I swear, Holly—” his gaze slid to his daughter, “—Cupid would never choose you for an accomplice.”

Holly frowned at him. “What’s an accomplice?”

“Get Leslie’s crutches for her.” Tagg ignored her question.

When his feet were solidly under him, he spanned her waist with his hands and lifted her up to stand precariously balanced on one foot, her fingers gripping the sleeve of his coat for support. Holly retrieved the crutches and dragged them over to Leslie. Tagg brushed at the snow sticking to her coat, slapping off the worst of it.

“Are you all right?” His warm and lazy glance moved over the subdued radiance in her eyes.

“Yes.” She nodded briefly, a small smile showing. There was a clump of snow on the collar of her coat. Tagg reached over and brushed it off, then let the gloved tips of his fingers touch her neck before lifting strands of golden tan hair outside her collar. Despite the coldness of his gloves, she was warmed by the light, tingling caress.

“I’d better walk you to the house so you don’t get knocked off your feet again,” he said.

Leslie took one step, then remembered. “I had a package.” She looked around for it and spied the present sticking out of a snowdrift.

“I’ll get it for you.” Holly noticed it at the same instant.

At the sight of the Christmas-wrapped present, Tagg quirked an eyebrow at her. “What’s this?” he murmured dryly. “I thought you didn’t go in for last minute Christmas shopping.”

“There’s an exception to every rule,” she retorted and started to take the package from Holly, relieved to notice the paper hadn’t been torn.

“Better let me carry it.” Tagg took it from his daughter, and gestured for Leslie to go ahead of him. “I’ll catch you if you fall.”

“Promises from the man who knocked me down,” Leslie mocked.

“Ah, but I picked you back up again and brushed you off,” Tagg reminded her with a twinkling glance as they started up the driveway toward the house.

Holly split away from them. “I’m going to work on our snowman.”

“Don’t be throwing any snowballs,” Tagg warned with a faint smile and let his gaze follow his young daughter as she took off for their front yard where the partially constructed snowman waited.

“Do you have any plans for Christmas Eve?” Leslie asked, then explained the reason for the question. “Aunt Patsy and I would like you and Holly to come over and have oyster stew with us.”

“We accept.”

She remembered something else. “Oh, would you tell Holly that I mailed her letter to Santa Claus?”

A surprised frown flickered across his features. “When?”

“This morning. She saw me leaving and ran out to give it to me,” Leslie explained. “Why?”

“We already mailed one letter to him last week.” His glance strayed briefly to his daughter, a certain puzzled certainty in his expression; then Tagg shrugged it away. “I guess she decided to put in a second request for a dog.”

“Is Santa going to bring her one?” A smile twitched at her mouth.

“Santa is still looking,” he answered dryly. Taking the lead up the steps, Tagg held the doors open for her and followed her into the kitchen with the gift-wrapped package. Her aunt was standing by the wall phone, the receiver to her ear. She half-turned when she heard them enter.