A Christmas to Believe In (11 page)

her tongue to squelch the flirtatious reply. Now wasn't the

time. Maybe once, when she wouldn't have meant them.

Definitely not now, when she'd spent the last twenty-four

hours fantasizing about Clint's hands, his mouth, his

incredible body.

Clint stood up, his fingers beckoning for hers. She slid her

hand into his large palm and allowed him to help her to stand.

"Where are we going?"

"Let's go see the lights. It's been years since I've stood

under the mayor's Christmas tree."

"Me too." Grinning, she followed as he led them back into

the chilly night air. "Do you remember when Alex climbed the

tree?"

A hearty laugh burst free, and Clint shook his head. "Man,

I thought Dad would beat him senseless that night. It

wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't gotten scared and

refused to come down. Then when the firemen showed up—I

swear I think Mom covered her face with her scarf."

Jesse giggled with his chuckles. "How old was he? Seven?"

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"Five. Just old enough to reach the branches." He pointed

up at the one-hundred foot tree that dominated Crown

Center. "Notice they cut the branches off ten feet up now."

She took a long drink from her cup. Glancing around, Jesse

took in all the things she'd forgotten. On the metallic train,

she could hear the four of them barking orders—
stoke the

engines, pull the whistle, look out for the cow!

They'd laughed and played under the magic of these lights.

Oblivious to the real meaning of the Holiday, focused only on

the colorful displays, the gifts Santa would bring. Caught by

the memories, she set her cup down on the giant drum and

tapped Clint on the shoulder.

When he looked, she wrinkled her nose and cried, "You're

it!"

It took him a minute to bobble his cup and free his hands.

Once rid of the mug of cocoa, he lunged for her. On a playful

squeal, she took off around the life-size wooden soldiers,

using them as shields when his arm snaked out to grab her.

Clint rushed after Jesse, laughing as she darted in and out

of the brightly painted displays. Her laughter rang through

the air, more melodic than the distant music from the ice

terrace. Her long hair streamed out behind her, tangling with

the fringed tail of her scarf. She clamped a hand on her head

to hold her hat in place and darted left.

God, it felt good to let go like this. To dismiss all the adult

responsibilities and play with his full heart. He'd forgotten

how it felt to be young. How days could pass carefree.

Mid-stride he scooped up a handful of snow, rolled it into a

ball, and let it go. It nailed her square between her shoulders.

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She squeaked, clamored beneath the slide, and rushed for

the backside of the Christmas tree. Anticipating her attack, he

went around the other way, and found her back to him, a

snowball cocked and ready.

The crunch of his boots spun her around. She fired. He

ducked. The snowball landed harmlessly beyond his shoulder.

Panting, she collapsed against the tall drum's walls, and

struggled to catch her breath between laughs.

He leaned back against the wall, chuckling, and looked up

at the glass storefronts across the street. Bright white bulbs

illuminated masterfully decorated trees within. In a corner

display, a mechanical elf pounded a hammer on a toy bench

while Santa looked on in the background. The next window

down framed a fairy-like angel. Wheaten hair flowed in gentle

curls from beneath her golden halo. Silver-tipped wings

elongated behind a white gown. She extended an elegant

hand to a cluster of small children asleep in an old-fashioned

bed. Above them, stockings dangled, laden with fruits, candy

canes, and tiny wrapped packages.

Kansas City was different this year. Prettier. Homier.

Maybe it was just the snow, so uncustomary before January.

Whatever it was, it stirred some deep, unnamable feeling

deep inside him.

"What are you thinking?" Jesse asked quietly.

He turned his head to reply, and his lungs squashed

together. Standing beneath the multicolored lights, she was

every bit as beautiful as the angel behind the window. As it

tumbled around her shoulders, wild and free, her dark hair

caught the reflection, haloing her with soft light. Her quirky

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hat came down to the middle of her ears, and between

strands of ebony, he caught the glint of one golden earring.

She wore a smile that cut in deep and fisted around his heart.

The dot of whipped cream on the tip of her dainty nose

topped everything with a touch of youthful charm.

Straightening, he reached out to brush the spot away with

his knuckle. So cute. So damn pretty.

The sparkle of her earring taunted. His gaze pulled to the

delicate trinket, along with his fingers. He pushed a wayward

strand of her hair away, tucked it behind her ear. The

movement brought him closer. So close, her warmth seeped

into his chest.

Her breath puffed between them as he studied her face.

Time had been kind to her. More than kind. Though the tiny

crow's feet at the corners of her eyes said she was no longer

the girl he'd once known, youth radiated out through her

trembling smile.

His gaze locked with hers. Bright, blue, and glistening, her

eyes sparkled like the glittered ornaments overhead. As he

stood captivated, running his thumb over the silken lock of

her hair, they shifted into a darker hue.

He was going to kiss her, and she knew it. The catch of her

breath told him she hungered for the contact as much as he

did. He gave her two heartbeats to come to her senses and

step away. When she didn't, he dipped his head.

Softly, hesitantly, he touched his lips to hers. Their breaths

mingled. The faint flavor of peppermint from her earlier candy

cane lingered on her mouth, drawing him in deeper. He slid

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his hand to the back of her head, closed his eyes, and

surrendered.

Jesse melted into his arms. Her soft lips parted beneath

his. He nudged them further apart with the tip of his tongue

as sensation flooded into him. Her perfume assaulted his

senses, drowning him in flowers and a scent far richer.

Something dark, sinfully sexy, and every bit as intoxicating.

At the brush of her tongue, heat leapt into his veins. His

stomach ground down tight, and against his thigh, he felt his

cock stir. He wound his free arm around her waist, pressing

her closer, lost to the hollow ache that opened deep in his

soul.

Her fingers slid up his chest, twined around his shoulders,

and delved into the hair at the base of his neck. She met the

demands of his mouth with equal hunger, invited him to take

all she offered along with all he desired. Unable to resist, Clint

tightened the arm around her waist and brought her body

flush with his. Soft curves blanketed him. The scrape of her

nails against his scalp sent pleasure thrumming down his

spine.

Lord above, he was kissing Jesse. The girl he'd grown up

with. Jesse, who knew every embarrassing secret and had

laughed at every one.

Nothing had ever felt more right.

"Mom?"

Ethan's hesitant call shattered through Clint's bliss. Jesse

jerked away, her features ashen, and her eyes as wide as

saucers. She smoothed her hair with one hand, tugged her

coat down with the other.

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"I'm here." The brief glance she spared Clint held

enormous regret.

Clint dropped his hands to his sides with an inward groan.

Turning around, he caught the malevolent glare Ethan threw

his way before the boy stalked away.

"Ethan!" Jesse rushed after him.

With nothing left to do but follow, Clint sucked in a shaky

breath and trudged after her. A fist clamped at his side, he

cursed his stupidity. He should have waited. Bided his time

until they were somewhere where Ethan couldn't chance upon

them. Of all the people to witness this kiss, he could think of

no worse candidate. Even Alex and Heath would have been

better alternatives. They'd give him hell, her too, but none of

it would hold real meaning.

Unlike a thirteen-year-old boy who already didn't like him.

Damn it all, he couldn't get any more foolish.

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Jesse skidded across the ice-covered concrete, Clint on her

heels. Ahead, Ethan marched toward his friends, his

shoulders rigid, his hands clenched at his sides. Even from

this distance, she could read the grim pull of his mouth. The

brief moment where his eyes had settled on her, laden with

silent accusation, scored into her memory.

She should have stopped Clint. He'd given her the

opportunity, and like a wanton, she'd ignored it, desperate for

the promise that burned in his amber gaze. Desperate enough

to forget Ethan.

She swore beneath her breath and hurried her pace.

"Ethan," she called with firm authority.

He jerked to a stop. Spun around like a whip. "What?"

"Just stop a minute. Did you need me?"

A mask of indifference settled into his features, and he

shrugged his shoulders. "I forgot what I was going to ask."

The lie glinted behind the shift of his eyes. He looked over his

shoulder, tossed his head in the direction of his friends. "I'm

ready to go."

Jesse closed her eyes and let her shoulders slump. All that

lofty sensation Clint had stirred deflated at the flat,

unemotional tone to Ethan's voice. One kiss, and he'd

clammed up like an oyster. Two years of trying to crack

through that hard shell, and she'd lost every bit of progress

she'd made by indulging in the one thing she absolutely

shouldn't.

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Clint slipped into her peripheral vision, his hands shoved

into his coat pockets, his stance casual. She didn't dare

acknowledge him, not with Ethan so obviously wounded.

"Ethan, what about your friends? And Stephanie? Aren't you

enjoying yourself?"

Stubbornly, he lifted his chin. His blue eyes glinted like

glass, the raw emotion trapped behind his defiant stare.

"We're ready to leave." He elbowed Sam. "Right, Sam? Ready

to go now?"

Sam did a double take. He glanced between the giggling

girls and Ethan, confusion tugging at his freckled features.

But when he followed Ethan's cold stare to Jesse,

understanding erased the tight lines. Sam bobbed his head.

"Sure. Whatever you say, Ethan."

Jesse resisted the urge to drop her head into her hands

and give in to an anguished cry. Damn it all, how foolish could

she be? She'd known now wasn't the time to indulge in a

personal life. Yet, she'd rushed headlong into Clint's arms,

oblivious to the resolutions she'd made.

She braved confrontation and looked to Clint. He watched

silently, his expression unreadable. No frown marred his

handsome features; no anger glinted in his rich gaze. She

looked away as regret tumbled her stomach and stared up at

the stars. So unfair. Just as she'd discovered something she'd

yearned for, circumstance forbade the pleasure. "We have to

go," she murmured.

"I'll be in the car." Low and even, his reply felt like he'd

slammed a door in her face.

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She watched him walk away, a part of her crumbling. She

yearned to chase after, to tug on his elbow and tell him how

sorry she was. To explain Ethan's past, the graphic details

sealed in his files and protected by her oath of confidentiality.

To beg him to understand how love for a child could

overshadow all personal needs, and that she'd lay down her

life for Ethan, no matter the sacrifice. Clint would understand.

Yet, she couldn't. Ethan trusted those secrets to her. He'd

been betrayed enough in his short life, and she would not

betray his confidence. Not when the best solution for

everyone came with letting Clint go. In a week or two, tonight

wouldn't matter. They'd both return to their lives, hundreds of

miles apart, and never look back. When they ran into each

other again...

She sighed.

When they ran into each other again, tonight would lie

between them, as obvious and irritating as a festering

splinter.

The wind picked up, whipping her hair into her face and

sliding beneath her clothes. She hugged her arms around her

and huddled into her coat. "Let's go. Clint's in the car."