Page 52 of A Match Made at Christmas

He was close to her now, at the bottom of the stairwell, hidden away from the rest of the world.

She took a step back, losing her resolve, forgetting why it was they couldn’t be together. And he was looking at herlike that,and she wanted to pretend they weren’t Pru and Hayes. She wanted to pretend it was perfectly okay for them to make out right there in the middle of a Christmas party in which she was a guest of honor.

“I should go.” She took a step back and ran into a door.

He didn’t look away, but he nodded slowly. “You should. Because if you don’t, I’m going to kiss you again.”

She cleared her throat but didn’t move. Was thismagiche talked about working overtime? Had they been smacked with some sort of crazy Christmas spell or were they simply two lonely people who knew each other too well?

“Hayes, I’m scared,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. “And I am too. But you and I—we make sense.”

“Do we?”

He took her hands in his. “Peggy told me the best relationships start out as friends,” He paused, searching her eyes. “Do you know you’re the only person who knows about Egypt?”

“Not even your parents?” Pru asked quietly. “Or Hollis?”

He shook his head. “Just you. And the only time I stop thinking about what I saw is when I’m with you.”

She didn’t have a reason to argue. She’d been carrying a torch for him for how many years? What was she so afraid of now that everything she’d wanted was right in front of her.

“I don’t want to be like Howie and Peggy, Prudence. I don’t want you to be the one that got away.”

Inexplicably, tears sprang to her eyes.

“But you’re . . .” she searched for the words.

“I’m?”

“You’re you.”

He half-laughed. “Last time I checked, that was true.”

“Maybe you’re just confused.”

“Why is it so hard for you believe that I’m in love with you?”

Her heart stopped.

“And why is it so hard for you to admit you love me too?”

She lifted her chin to level his gaze and found nothing but authenticity waiting for her there.

“You have this whole big, wonderful family, and I have you,” she said. “I can’t risk that. I can’t screw that up.”

“You aren’t,” he said, pushing her hair away from her face. “You’re just making it better.”

“Hayes—”

He studied her—too intently, in fact, and it sent her insides tumbling.

He inched closer. “Tell me you don’t feel it.”

She swallowed. Her throat was dry. This was the part where she either told him she felt nothing for him and raced off or she gave in to every human desire that coursed through her body.

“Pru.” Her name was husky on his lips, a faint whisper, the stuff dreams are made of.

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