Page 46 of A Very Naughty Christmas

She stared at him, speechless for a moment, then uttered a flustered reply. “I… uh, we… what?”

“It’s a rule, Dix, not mine, but we can’t risk the consequences.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

His chin lifted, exposing his throat and a small patch of smooth skin in the open collar of his navy polo as he focused on a spot above her head. She couldn’t imagine anything being more interesting than what was in front of her right now, but forced her eyes to follow his. Someone had hung a sprig of mistletoe in the nearby doorway only a few feet away.

She shook her head, backing away as he moved closer. “That’s a silly game.”

He kept on coming, a sexy-as-hell grin on his oh-so handsome face as she matched him step for step.

“Besides,” she added, while continuing her retreat. “I’m not really standing under it.”

Almost as soon as she’d said that, she felt the metal handle on the door pressing into her lower back. He leaned in, fully aware she had nowhere to go.

“Now you are,” came his velvety murmur as his head began to dip with obvious intent.

Pinned against the door, she put her hands up to his chest. “You can’t kiss me in the middle of the hall at your place of work. People will talk.”

“I don’t care.”

She wanted those full, sensual lips on hers, but it wasn’t a good idea at all. “Kyle…”

Suddenly, his arm was around her waist, and the other was opening the door. She found herself in the stairwell, against the wall, with his hand on her chin angling her face up to his.

“Now the mistletoe is gone,” she sputtered insistently, “crisis averted.”

“Dixie?” His mouth was so close, she felt the warmth of his breath whisper-soft on her skin.

“Yeah?” she asked breathlessly, all thought of resistance quickly fading away.

“Do you know the legend of the mistletoe?”

“Um, what?” Her response was vague, unable to process anything except him being near, close enough that if she raised up a bit on her toes, their lips would touch.

“It’s from a pagan custom originally used to ward off evil spirits.” As he spoke, he gently rubbed his nose alongside hers, then moved on to nuzzle her cheek. “Later, it became a symbol of peace, under which enemies could declare a truce.”

She wanted to say she didn’t care about a silly legend, except he bent his head andnudged her collar aside, then trailed his parted lips up her throat in the softest of touches against her skin, and she couldn’t think, let alone argue.

As he continued, his mouth slid over the hinge of her jaw, moving up to her ear where he caught the lobe lightly between his teeth. “And still later, embattled spouses would give the kiss of peace under the mistletoe and make up.”

“You’re the one making this up.” Her voice was low and throaty, giving away more than she wanted to.

“No, it’s true.” His head came up and his eyes locked on hers, but they didn’t stay there long. They moved down when she wet her lips again. She wasn’t trying to tease, but with her breathing shortened and more rapid while anticipating his mouth on hers, they had gone dry.

He bent his head until his mouth hovered a smidgeon above her own. “By the eighteenth century, it became more of a social game and the custom carries on until today. A girl standing beneath a sprig of mistletoe, or a festive ball like the one above your head, cannot refuse a kiss.”

“And what, pray tell, happens if she does?”

He eased back a fraction, his gaze alight with a teasing glimmer as he answered, “Tragedy strikes.”

Her eyes narrowed as his crinkled with amusement. “What kind of tragedy?”

“Left unkissed under the mistletoe, the girl could expect not to marry for a year.”

“Oh! And that was supposed to be a deterrent? Such a calamity couldn’t be allowed to pass,” she commented tongue-in-cheek, then went on in her very best Scarlett O’Hara drawl, going so far as to fan herself with her hand as if she were beset by a sudden spell of the vapors. “Whatever will she do without a big, strong man?”

He leaned in closer. “Smart ass,” he whispered against her mouth, not kissing, merely brushing her lips with his own again. “The legend also says that a kiss beneath the magical mistletoe can mean deep romance and lasting friendship for the couple. I vote for both, but if I have to choose, I pick deep romance.”

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