Page 4 of Mistletoe Love Match
Oh no!
Calliope’s jaw dropped, and the prickle of impending doom spider-crawled down her spine.
She recognized the voices.
What were they supposed to do?
She held her breath and met Alec’s gaze. He’d turned the color of dirty dishwater. He was thinking the same thing she was. They were seconds away from landing themselves on the naughty list.
ChapterTwo
Alec Lamb
The clap of footsteps stopped, and Alec froze.
Christ, how he wished it was the real Saint Nick and Mrs. Claus.
But it wasn’t.
It was Louise and Ralph Dagby—the husband-and-wife team who ran the Helping Hands community center. The pair had paused outside the supply closet door.
He and Calliope were trapped.
This was bad.
No, this was a catastrophe. They couldn’t get caught looking like a pair of depraved holiday hooligans. He wasn’t the type of doctor-in-training who got it on in a supply closet.
Shit—that statement wasn’t accurate, was it?
He’d just gotten it on in a supply closet, but it wasn’t like him to behave like a sex-crazed maniac. The maddeningly beautiful Calliope Cress was to blame for that. To be fair, he wasn’t neglecting his duties. Thanks to some winter weather rolling in, the health fair traffic had slowed in the last hour. That was the only reason he’d taken a break. And he never took breaks. However, had he strolled toward the other side of the building on purpose because he knew Calliope was volunteering in the childcare room?
No, of course not.
He’d been cooped up in a makeshift cubicle checking vitals for the last seven and a half hours. He was merely stretching his legs, which meant walking the length of a hallway that just happened to go by the childcare area.
Had he passed by her classroom window four times? All right, five times—possibly six?
Yes, he had.
And when he’d heard the lead teacher tell Calliope she could take a fifteen-minute break, had his pulse shot up like he was about to go into cardiac arrest and had his blood supply headed south, leaving him in a state of disorientation known acutely asCalliope-itis?
Maybe.
Fine . . . yes.
From the moment she’d scowled at him four months ago and called him Dr. Wanker, he’d lost all perspective regarding his sister’s fiancé’s little sister.
Sweet Jesus, say that five times fast.
“Alec,” Calliope mouthed. Urgency flashed in her gray eyes as she pointed at the door.
Dammit! They had company. “I know,” he mouthed back.
She raised her hands and busted out the international expression for what-the-hell-should-we-do?
Think, think, think.
“Since we’re here,” Louise remarked, “let me grab a few rolls of toilet paper. I noticed the restrooms near the entrance were running low.”
