Free Christmas on Main Street by Susan Donovan, Alexis Morgan, Joann Ross, Luann McLane Page B

pulled, we’ll be the ones pulling them.”
    She rewarded him with a dazzling smile that sent something beneath his heart tumbling. “Exactly. Now, I’d better get to that tub before we flood the place.”

13
    Cole sipped thoughtfully on a dark ale as he heated up a pot of gumbo. Having grown up in a culture where the men did much of the cooking, he had no problem cooking the rice himself. He knew his mother would’ve thrown herself off the Shelter Bay Bridge before ever stooping to instant.
    He’d put on a CD, and in the background Billie Holiday was singing the blues.
    Kelli had changed in the past year. She’d toughened up. And while his grandmother was right about her having always had a mind of her own, she’d acquired more of what his grandfather Bernard would’ve called good old-fashioned spunk.
    And it looked damn good on her.
    And speaking of good . . .
    “Did you mean that?” she asked as she walked into the kitchen, engulfed in a plush, pastel pink robe that had him thinking of sugarplums again. Beneath the robe he could see a bit of blue pajamas printed with polar bears. Apparently, her winter-theme wardrobe extended beyond the sweaters.
    The outfit shouldn’t have been sexy. And it might not have been, had it not been for the way she’d piled her hair into a messy topknot that just begged to have the pins pulled out of it so it’d tumble down. Even more distracting were the beads of water gleaming on the rosy skin revealed by the robe’s neckline. She was wearing striped pink, blue, and white socks.
    “Mean what? About having to resort to squirrel stew? Because if you’re worried about starving, I can assure you that Marines are taught all sorts of cool survival techniques.” He turned the heat on the water, getting ready for the rice. “I even know how to build a snow cave.” He shot her a look. “And how to share body warmth to stay alive.”
    More color flooded into her cheeks. “I was referring to what you said about staying warm together.”
    Then he noticed that the glass she was holding was nearly empty. He took the wine bottle and topped it off. “I’m a guy. We’re always serious about sex.” He put the bottle back on the counter. “For now, why don’t we just try this?”
    He framed her face in his hands and, taking advantage of the fact that her hands were occupied holding that wineglass, he lowered his head, pausing just a breath away from actual contact.
    Her eyes darkened, and he heard the little intake of breath. He waited, giving her time to say something. Or move away.
    But she didn’t. She just stood there, fingers tightening around the glass, deep blue eyes offering him a silent invitation no man with blood still stirring in his veins would have been able to turn down.
    As he touched his mouth to hers and she slid easily, naturally into the kiss, Cole wondered why the hell he’d waited all these years. She tasted warm and feminine. Of wine and temptation. And in that moment, his entire world shifted and he knew that he would never be the same.
    All the time, she’d been right there. Hiding in plain sight.
    Because he wanted to make sure she understood that this thing between them wasn’t some convenient sex in a snowed-in-cabin scenario, although it took every ounce of his self-control, Cole kept his hands on her face.
    “That,” he murmured, as he leaned back, enjoying the delicious mingling of desire and confusion in her eyes, “was worth waiting for.”
    “I don’t understand.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips as he poured the rice into the water, which had begun to boil during the kiss. The water wasn’t the only thing that had heated up. “What happened to being friends?”
    “Wasn’t that friendly enough for you?” he asked easily as she gulped down her wine. Drawn to the silk of her skin, he returned to skim the back of his hand down her cheek. “We can try it again, if you want.”
    “No.” She backed up. “I need to