Marriage Under the Mistletoe. Helen Lacey
away from her. She had lovely skin. And that hair—masses of dark curls reaching way past her shoulders. He’d wanted to twist it around his hands, tilt her head back and kiss the smooth skin along her throat.
“Scott, about Evie...”
He shifted on his feet. Had Callie read his thoughts? “What about her?”
She smiled fractionally. “She’s, you know, my friend. And Noah’s sister.”
“The point being?”
Callie expelled a breath. “The point being that she’s my friend. And there seemed to be a fair bit of heat between you in the kitchen this morning.”
“You’re imagining things.” His sister raised both brows again and gave him a look. Scott held up a hand. “I left chasing everything in a skirt behind in my teens.”
Callie gave a grim smile. “I know that. But since you and Belinda broke up and then Mike’s death, you’ve changed and I—”
“Belinda was a long time ago,” he said, cutting her off. “And I don’t see what Mike has to do with any of this.”
Callie shrugged. “He was your friend.”
“And?”
“And losing a friend like that must be hard. And Evie, well, she’s like a magnet. Everyone feels it about her. She’s warm and generous and so incredibly likable. Anyone who meets her gets drawn in. I would hate to see her get hurt.”
“By me?” Scott pushed back the irritation weaving up his back. Callie was way off base. Sure, he was attracted to Evie Dunn. But he had no intention of acting on that attraction. He already worked out that Evie wasn’t for him.
Okay...maybe I did flirt with her a bit this morning. But flirting is harmless. It won’t go anywhere. I’ll make sure of that.
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” he said to his sister. “We barely know each other.”
Callie made a face. “I know what I saw.”
“Just drop it, Callie.”
She did, but the thought stuck with Scott for the rest of the afternoon. By the time Callie dropped him off at Dunn Inn, it was past three o’clock. Evie’s car was parked in the driveway and Scott was just fishing in his pocket for his key when he spotted a teenage boy shooting hoops near the studio out back. And shooting them pretty badly.
The youth stopped playing when Scott approached and spoke. “Hi.”
Scott smiled and shook the teenager’s hand as he introduced himself. Evie Dunn’s son seemed like a nice kid. Of course, Evie’s kid wouldn’t be anything else.
“Wanna shoot?” Trevor asked, and tossed the ball to him. “It would be good to see the thing actually go in the hoop.”
Scott laughed and swiftly dropped the ball into the basket. “You just need to work on your angle.”
Trevor shrugged and smiled. “I’m not much of a sportsman. Take after my mother, I guess.”
Scott remembered how Evie had looked that morning in her running gear. She certainly seemed to keep herself in great shape. “She’s an artist,” Scott said, and then felt foolish.
Trevor looked at him oddly, but continued to smile. “I guess. My dad was the sporty one.”
“Mine, too,” Scott replied, and passed the ball on.
The teenager grabbed the basketball, aimed, concentrated and shot it at the hoop. It missed and rebounded directly into Scott’s hands. “My dad’s dead.”
Scott lobbed the ball back through the hoop once it bounced. “Mine, too.”
Trevor grabbed the ball and took another shot. The ball curved around the edges of the hoop before dropping to the side. “Yeah...it sucks.”
They continued to shoot hoops and talk for several minutes, until a taxi pulled up outside the house and two elderly women emerged. As they walked slowly up the driveway, Trevor groaned under his breath. The women approached on quickening feet and Scott watched their progress with a broad grin.
It took them precisely five seconds to persuade Scott to help them carry their bags from the footpath and into the house. Trevor smiled as if he’d been given a Get Out Of Jail Free card and went back to shooting hoops.
There were about a dozen shopping bags from various retail outlets, and Scott guessed the two women had spent the day scouting the stores in Bellandale. The perfectly groomed pair were obviously the Manning sisters who Evie had told him about on the long drive from the airport. They regarded him with such blatant curiosity it felt as if their two sets of eyes were burning a hole through his back as he walked up the half dozen steps and opened the front screen door while juggling the parcels.
Once they’d stepped over the threshold, Scott closed the door and followed them through the house. Vanilla. The scent hit him immediately. Evie.
The living room was large and immaculately presented, but it was the huge, ornately decorated Christmas tree that held his attention. It was a real tree—the kind he remembered from when he was young and his father was still alive. Memories banged around in his head. They’d go out together and find the perfect tree, strap it to the roof of his father’s Volvo and make the trip home laughing, because they both knew his mother would insist on moving the tree around for hours before she finally settled on a spot to showcase her decorating efforts. And they laughed because, inevitably, the tree ended up in the same position every year.
Funny, he didn’t think about those days much anymore. He tried not to think about how much he still missed his father. He’d been a good man, and a good dad. But reckless. And that recklessness had contributed to his death. A desk jockey by day, his father would pursue one adventure after another on the weekend. Sailing, skiing, climbing. Ultimately, it was the climbing that killed him. His death had galvanized something inside Scott. At eighteen he had been determined to join the fire department and approached the job responsibly. He didn’t take risks. He followed the rules.
And those rules didn’t include fantasizing about Evie Dunn.
A widow. A single mom.
Two very good reasons to keep his head.
The Manning sisters thanked him for his help, and Scott was just about to make a quick exit when Evie walked into the room. She smiled at him and his chest tightened unexpectedly. He smiled back, saw her cheeks flush and then quickly she diverted her gaze. His thoughts lingered on how pretty she was. And all that incredible, seriously sexy hair. She started talking with the sisters, but he could feel the vibration of her awareness of him like a drum beating. Because she appeared to be trying not to look at him.
Scott had placed the bags near the foot of one of the sofas, and Evie and the elderly sisters began unloading the contraband. He stood back and watched, amused by the clear delight the three women displayed as bags were opened and items unwrapped. Evie’s animated expression was addictive and he couldn’t look away. He watched her unload parcels and sigh her appreciation for the treasures as she unwrapped close to a dozen shiny glass ornaments and garlands and laid them carefully on the sofa. Scott snatched a glance at the tree behind him and quickly realized something. Evie loved Christmas. He could easily imagine her trimming a turkey, wrapping gifts with matching paper and ribbon, singing carols on Christmas Eve and doing all the things that made the festive season special.
A magnet, Callie had called her. Someone who draws people in.
Was that what she was doing to him? But Scott was convinced it was just physical attraction. He’d been attracted to women before. Some he’d dated. Some he’d slept with.
Evie looked across at him briefly and the smile curling her lips made his stomach roll over. Her cheeks flushed again, brighter this time. Scott’s fingers itched with the sudden urge to reach out and touch her face, to trace the line of her jaw and her delicious-looking mouth. Her lips parted, as if she knew