Beneath the Mistletoe: Make-Believe Mistletoe / Christmas Bonus, Strings Attached. GINA WILKINS

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      That sounded like a good plan. Fire gave off both heat and light. She threw off her blankets and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. She still wore her sweater, jeans and socks, so she didn’t have to worry about modesty. Awkwardly gathering her pillow and blankets while still balancing the flashlight, she took a step toward Banner—and promptly tripped over one of the blankets.

      Banner caught her before she could hit the floor. His arms closed around her, pulling her against him, and she became aware of exactly how strong that slim body of his really was. Woodworking seemed to be very good for building muscles, she thought a bit dreamily.

      “You okay?” His deep voice was very close to her ear as he bent his head over her.

      If her hands hadn’t been so full, she might have been tempted to let them roam up his chest—to satisfy her curiosity about the definition of the muscles beneath his gray sweatshirt.

      Except for his small flashlight, Banner’s hands were free—not moving, just holding her. His face was close to her hair, and he didn’t immediately move away. It looked as though it was going to be up to her to move first—before she did something stupid. Like dropping those blankets and satisfying her overactive curiosity.

      She took a step backward. Banner’s hands fell immediately to his side, and he, too, moved to put even more space between them. The dog shuffled out of his way, bumping against Lucy’s hip. She certainly didn’t want to risk stumbling again, which could very likely lead to her ending up back in Banner’s arms.

      With a very faint, slightly wistful sigh, she followed carefully as he led her through the kitchen and toward the living room.

      Bobby Ray knelt in front of the fire, slowly adding wood. The flickering firelight danced across his broad face, gleaming in his thick hair and beard. “You doing okay, Lucy?” he asked, looking up from his task.

      “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

      Bobby Ray pushed himself to his feet and adjusted the fireplace screen. “I doubt the power will be back on anytime tonight. It’s going to get cold.”

      Lucy glanced toward the two bedrooms. “What about the others?”

      “The bedrooms are more heavily insulated than the office, which was an add-on,” Banner said. “There’s a gas fire burning in the master bedroom, so it should stay fairly comfortable in there. Joan and the kids are sharing a bed and a pile of blankets, so I think they’ll be okay.”

      Had Banner made the effort to come after Lucy because he thought she would get too cold—or because he knew she didn’t like the dark? Either way, it had been a nice thing for him to do.

      Bobby Ray leaned back into the recliner and raised the footrest. He pulled a blanket over himself and settled in more comfortably, making the chair frame creak. “Good night, y’all.”

      Lucy started to lay her blankets on the floor in front of the fire, but Banner put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Take the couch. I’ll bunk on the floor.”

      She shook her head. “I’ll be fine here. You go back to the couch.”

      “No.” The firelight played across Banner’s mulish expression. “You’ll be more comfortable on the couch. The floor’s fine for me.”

      His hand was warm on her arm, even through her clothes. She could think of plenty of ways to ward off the cold with Banner—but not in front of Bobby Ray. Her cheeks going hot in response to the unbidden thought, she cleared her throat. “You’ve already made up the couch for yourself. I’ll just—”

      A loud sigh erupted from the recliner. “Lucy, will you get on the couch? I’m pretty sure Banner’s more stubborn than you are, and this argument could go on for a while.”

      “Sorry, Bobby Ray,” she murmured, and gave in—mostly because she suspected the truck driver was right about who was more stubborn.

      A few minutes later Lucy was settled on the couch, and Banner and his dog lay on the floor in front of the fire, Banner in the sleeping bag he’d spread on the couch earlier. Bobby Ray snored rhythmically in the recliner, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the room got quiet again.

      Even though Banner had taken the pillow he’d used before, Lucy was still too aware that he had recently been on the same couch where she now lay. It was silly, of course, for her to feel as though she could still detect the heat from his body radiating from the thick cushions.

      Something about Banner sent her sadly neglected libido into spasms. She didn’t know if it was the way he looked—or the way he looked at her. It certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality that drew her. But there were other things about him: his awkward attempts at hospitality, his low-key and decidedly offbeat sense of humor, his skill in the kitchen…

      She couldn’t help wondering about his skill in other rooms.

      An exasperated sigh escaped her as she hid her face in the pillow in an attempt to smother that thought.

      Banner lifted his head to look her way. “Lucy? Are you okay?”

      “I’m fine,” she whispered back, squeezing her eyes closed and ordering herself to go to sleep.

      Maybe all that ice had given her a case of brain-freeze, she thought. She was quite sure she would have herself completely under control again by morning.

      After a restless night Lucy woke early, the tantalizing scent of coffee tickling her nostrils. The fire still crackled steadily, providing warmth and light, but neither Banner nor Bobby Ray were in the room.

      She didn’t like waking up in strange surroundings. She felt grubby and rumpled and disoriented—her hair a mess, her face pillow-creased, her clothes wrinkled. She snatched up her duffel bag and made a dash for the bathroom, wanting to put herself to rights before Banner saw her—or any of the others, of course, she added quickly.

      She took a very quick shower, using as little hot water as possible since there were so many others in the house. She was glad Banner had a gas water heater. She spent barely fifteen minutes in the bathroom, emerging with damp hair and a minimal amount of makeup, but she felt much better. At least her teeth were brushed and she had on fresh socks and underwear and a clean Christmas sweatshirt with the jeans she’d slept in.

      Stepping out of the bathroom, she nearly tripped over the motley dog that sat in the hallway, apparently waiting for her. “Did you want the next shower?” she asked him wryly.

      He gave her a goofy grin and a flick of his scraggly tail in reply, then followed at her heels as she made her way back into the living room. Someone had opened all the drapes while she’d been in the bathroom. It was still gray and cloudy outside, but at least some light came in through the large windows.

      She paused to look outside at the frozen landscape. Ice covered everything as far as she could see, glittering like freshly polished glass. Beneath nearly every tree lay a pile of broken limbs, and the evergreens were bent almost double beneath the weight of the ice. It was like being inside a snow globe.

      Christmas Eve, she mused. It certainly looked the part outside. But it didn’t feel right, not being with her family today.

      Sighing, she turned and walked toward the kitchen.

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