On a Snowy Christmas Night. Debbi Rawlins

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СКАЧАТЬ him a reproving look.

      A giggle rose in Shea’s throat and she pressed her lips together trying to smother the sound.

      Rachel clearly heard. “What?” she asked, her mouth slightly curved. “It’s okay. Everyone laughs at Trace.”

      “No, your system. Passing clockwise,” Shea said, trying to compose herself. “I get that. I really do.”

      “Thank you,” Rachel said with a smug lift of her chin aimed at Trace.

      He made a crack that Shea didn’t hear because Jesse came up behind her, and suddenly all her senses were fixated on him.

      “Would you like white or red?” he asked, bending close to her ear, his warm breath tickling her skin and sending an unexpected shiver down her spine.

      She turned her head and saw that he was holding a bottle of wine in each hand. “Actually, I’m not much of a drinker. Maybe I should stick with water.”

      “All right, but this chardonnay is pretty good stuff.” His voice was low and deep, and terribly unnerving because it seemed meant only for her.

      Shea sighed. Probably a mistake given that she was already feeling rather warm, but she said, “Maybe a little.”

      “Wine?” Trace snorted. “What’s the occasion?”

      “Think, you heathen. We’re celebrating Jamie coming to be with us for the holidays.” Rachel sprinkled sunflower seeds on the salad, gave it a long approving look, then passed the bowl to her mother.

      Jamie grinned. “We can always hook you up to a keg, Trace.”

      “Hey, I’m down with that.” Trace smiled, his teeth strikingly white against his tan skin.

      He was one of those real charmers, Shea thought, watching the way he casually combed his fingers through his thick dark hair. Probably had a string of girlfriends.

      Shea forgot all about Trace as Jesse leaned in between her and Rachel to pour them each some wine. He brushed her shoulder as he maneuvered his upper body through the narrow space. Angled toward Shea, his flat belly only inches away, he ignited a tingling, nervous sensation that made her hold her breath and force her face straight.

       One, two, three… four, five, six… seven, eight, nine…

      His task accomplished, he retreated, and she stopped counting, unclenched her teeth and let out a slow breath that was still a bit shaky.

      “Thank you,” she managed to say in a small voice.

      “You’re welcome.” He’d already moved on to his mother, poured red for her and then continued on, filling everyone else’s glasses.

      Okay, that was weird. Not her reaction—she always hated when anyone got too close—but the heat spreading through her limbs unsettled her some. Jeez, was she ever regretting the dinner invitation. This was torture and to top it off, her appetite was gone.

      She hadn’t realized she was still tracking him until she heard her name and it was clear someone was trying to get her attention.

      Blinking, she glanced around the table and saw Mrs. McAllister smiling at her.

      “It’s so good of you to give up the holidays with your family to volunteer at Safe Haven,” she said. “The people there are wonderful and I’m sure they appreciate your sacrifice.”

      “Oh, it’s no sacrifice.” Shea realized how that sounded, picked up her wineglass and took a sip. “I wanted to get away for the holidays.”

      “I did, too.” Jamie accepted the bowl of salad from Trace and heaped some on her plate. “I don’t have any brothers and sisters, and my parents live in Zurich, so I’m glad the McAllisters took pity on me.”

      “Excuse me.” Cole stopped serving lasagna to lift an eyebrow at her. “Is that your only reason for coming?”

      Even as the corners of Jamie’s mouth quirked, her forehead creased in a confused frown. “I can’t think of anything else,” she said with an exaggerated innocence that even Shea could tell was a fake.

      “Zap!” Trace barked out a laugh. “How’s your ego, bro?”

      Jamie leaned over and kissed Cole half on the mouth and half on the cheek, her hand reaching under the table.

      “I’d shut up until I got my lasagna if I were you,” Rachel told Trace.

      “If you were me you’d be smarter and better-looking.”

      “Oh, God.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Mom, are you sure you didn’t find him on the side of the road?”

      “You’re all hopeless.” Barbara McAllister shook her head, but it was clear she didn’t mind her children horsing around.

      Jesse smiled at the teasing as he took his seat but he seemed to be the most serious of the bunch. Shea thought back to when she first saw him, standing apart from the rest of the family. He hadn’t rushed to greet Jamie, though Shea had a feeling his reticence had nothing to do with the woman.

      The salad finished making its round. Everyone but Shea had taken a slice of bread, which looked homemade. Plates were passed to receive the cheesy pasta, but not to Rachel’s satisfaction because she complained her system had been ruined.

      Shea liked her. A lot. She liked Jamie, too, because Shea had the impression that Jamie had chimed in to bail her out.

      It was odd for her to take a liking to anyone so quickly. Her gaze drifted to Jesse. She kind of liked him, too, but she hated that he was sitting directly across from her. It was difficult not to stare at him.

      His hair was still a little damp on top, but the sides were so short they were already dry. The conservative cut made her think he’d be the clean-shaven type, but he’d left the stubble of beard that shadowed his jaw and chin. That and his tanned skin gave him a rugged look. She found the combination oddly appealing.

      Rachel must have passed Shea’s plate to Cole without her seeing because it was now heaping with a portion she’d never be able to finish. It smelled divine, though, and with her renewed appetite she was willing to give it her best try.

      For a few minutes it was quiet while everyone dug in to their meals. Ignoring the tempting aroma of the lasagna, she started with her salad because that’s what she always did. She’d finished chewing a cherry tomato when Rachel turned to her.

      “So, Shea, do you ride?” she asked.

      She dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “A little. I took refresher lessons last week, but I don’t think that’s a requirement of the shelter.”

      “Oh, no, I didn’t mean to imply that. I thought you might enjoy a trail ride tomorrow. We have a couple of very gentle mares in our stables, and since it’s your only free day before you start at Safe Haven—”

      “I don’t have a free day. I start tomorrow. But thank you for your offer.”

      Frowning, Rachel put down her fork. СКАЧАТЬ