Page 8 of Just One More Mistletoe

She’d never admitted her past to a man before, never felt close enough—yet she felt that closeness now. The vulnerability she normally associated with opening up to a man was nowhere to be found. Considering she wasn’t planning anything more than the here and now, the notion rattled her. Badly.

His hand brushed her cheek and remained there. “You can trust me, sweetheart.”

As she turned her head so his palm cupped her face, a renewed sense of rightness swept through her. “I spent my childhood in foster care,” she admitted. “My father was a musician,” she said, using finger-quotes around the word. “I was an accident. Eventually, when I was six, he took off to make it in the industry and my mother followed him. Never picked me up from school and that was that.”

He let out a low growl. “That shouldn’t happen to any child.”

“Exactly.” She shrugged self-consciously. “Which explains the Christmas party and my elf outfit.”

“Which explains my attraction to you,” he murmured.

“You have a thing for little women dressed in green?”

He laughed but his expression sobered fast. “Actually, I have a thing for a certain blonde-haired beauty with a big heart.”

She shook her head, feeling heat in rise to her cheeks. “Don’t give me that much credit. Really. It’s all very self-serving. When I got out of high school, I swore I’d finish my education somehow. No matter how many student loans I had to take, I promised myself I’d find a way to be self-supporting so I’d never run out of options or be reliant on anyone again.”

“And you’ve accomplished that.”

“Getting there. But I spent years working for that sense of security.”

“And you’ve got that now.”

“Definitely. But now, I’m starving,” she said, changing the subject. She didn’t want to get so deep so fast. Not until she knew him better, she thought, ignoring the sense that he was it for her. Love at first sight didn’t happen… did it? Uneasy, she turned away.

“Brandy, wait.”

She glanced over her shoulder.

“One more question.”

“Yes?”

“You thought you were kissing my brother.”

That was embarrassing, she thought, but sensed the importance behind his question. “Mistaken impulse,” she said, honestly.

“Any feelings behind it?”

“Just one.” She waited a beat, searching for the right word. “Regret,” she said at last, aware of the same importance behind her answer. “I regret that you obviously think there was something going on between me and Stephan. Or that I have any feelings for your brother other than friendship.”

“Don’t you? You initiated that kiss. I have a hard time believing it was born of feelings of friendship.”

“This is so humiliating. I’m going to sound so desperate but I thought I was interested in your brother so I acted on the opportunity.” She shrugged. “Turns out I was wrong.” She forced herself to meet his gaze. “I thought I wanted Stephan—until the second I kissed you.”

She’d given him his answer. It was up to him what he did with it. Turning away, she reached for the door handle and let herself out of the car.

Chapter Three

Max wrapped an arm around Brandy’s shoulder and tucked her into his side, away from view of the patrons in the bar. His protectiveness warmed her, as he shielded her from prying eyes and she let him lead her to the back of the paneled pub, decorated with silver and green tinsel along the top of dark wood. There was no way he could hear her above the din so she waited until they’d reached their destination before pulling on his hand and capturing his attention. “What do you do for a living?”

“Private investigator. Why?”

“No special reason. I was just curious.”

“Ask away. I have nothing to hide.” He turned toward the bar. “Hi, Stevie,” he said to the cute female server. “Can we get a round of…”

Max turned toward Brandy and she shrugged. “Whatever you’re having is fine.”

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