when she became aware of several admiring glances being cast her way.
It might sound vain, but she knew she looked her best this evening. Although Josie hadn’t been able to banish all the curl from her blond hair, tonight the strands hung in loose waves down her back. Not an out-of-control corkscrew in sight. Her strapless blue dress flattered her figure and fair complexion. Three-inch heels made her legs look longer than they were and brought her height up to five feet seven inches.
Despite knowing her eyes would remain hidden behind the mask for most of the evening, Josie had taken extra time with her makeup. Hoping to do justice to the green eyes that were said to be her best feature, she’d applied a smoky silvery sheen of shadow and several coats of mascara with a heavy hand.
A burst of laughter drew her gaze. Josie’s red-painted lips curved upward at the sight of several couples engaged in conversation with a sandy-haired man she recognized as their host, Travis Fisher. He’d been busy attaching something to a black and white feather chandelier—obviously brought in for the occasion—when she and Pauline arrived.
Instead of standing in a quiet corner and sipping champagne, the proper thing for Josie to do would be to walk over and introduce herself.
She blamed her hesitation on the fact that this New Year’s Eve gala was far different from the parties she attended in Portland. In those years away, Josie had discovered she preferred smaller, more intimate gatherings. In fact, it had become a tradition for her to usher in the New Year with friends, fondue and kirsch-wine cocktails.
Knowing the time had come to heal the rift in her family hadn’t made leaving her friends and the life she’d built in Oregon any easier.
Of course, nothing said she couldn’t return one day. Yet when her gaze had once again lingered on the majestic Tetons, she accepted that this rugged country was her home and she was here to stay.
The party tonight was an opportunity to reconnect with old friends and meet new ones. But first she had to assuage her curiosity. When she asked Mary Karen what her husband had been hanging on the chandelier, the pretty blonde simply smiled and encouraged her to check it out herself.
Josie stepped closer and narrowed her gaze. A sprig of dark green leaves and berries hung from a dark feather directly above her.
Was that, could that be, mistletoe?
“Gram said I’d find you here,” a familiar masculine voice pronounced. “I’m happy you reconsidered.”
Josie whirled.
Brilliant blue eyes behind a dark mask was all she saw before Noah’s mouth closed over hers.
Josie hadn’t attained the age of twenty-nine without being kissed. In fact her first kiss had come at the tender age of fourteen by the fifteen-year-old neighbor boy. But never had she been kissed like this.
It started slowly, a gentle melding of lips. Noah’s mouth was warm and inviting. Before Josie realized what she was doing, she’d stepped into him, winding her arms around his neck.
The instant his tongue pressed for entry, she opened her mouth. Fireworks exploded and her blood turned to fire. Suddenly, close wasn’t close enough. She wanted, no, needed, more, needed to be under his skin.
As she pressed against his body, hers soft where his was rock-hard, she heard him mutter a curse. She’d just slid her fingers into his hair when he took a step back.
“Too many people.” His gravelly voice seemed to come from far away. “We’ve got to slow this down.”
Get yourself under control.
Though he didn’t speak the words, she’d heard them all her life.
Even as Josie’s heart continued to slam against her ribs, she managed a careless shrug, grateful for the mask concealing her heated cheeks.
“I’ve always enjoyed mistletoe.” She gave a carefree laugh. “Perhaps a little too much.”
The flicker in Noah’s eyes told Josie he’d caught her meaning. She was saying she’d have enjoyed any kiss under a sprig of berries and leaves.
As if to illustrate, Josie grabbed the hand of a man who was strolling past. Thick chestnut hair tumbled above a half mask of red and gold. When he inclined his head questioningly, she pointed upward.
Something about the quick flash of his grin was vaguely familiar. The stranger didn’t hesitate. He leaned close and placed his mouth against hers. Unlike her experience with the sharp-eyed doctor who stood watching, this lip-lock didn’t ignite even the tiniest of sparks. Of course, that could simply be because all the fireworks had been used up moments before.
Josie stepped back and offered the stranger a smile. “Have a nice evening. Happy New Year.”
“I’ll definitely be seeing you around.” Though his voice was slightly familiar, Josie didn’t care enough to try to place him. She’d made her point.
“You don’t have a clue who he is.” Noah’s voice sounded in her ear. Though he’d kept his distance while the kiss was in progress, he stepped forward the instant the other guy walked off.
Josie lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Does it matter?”
“He could have been your brother.” Noah took her arm and steered her out of range of the mistletoe.
Josie stiffened, then chided herself for being so gullible. “Benedict is a good three inches taller.”
“You weren’t thinking about that when you jumped the guy,” Noah pointed out.
“I didn’t jump—” she began, then stopped when she saw the twinkle in the neurosurgeon’s eyes. “Har. Har.”
“I’d have laughed if it had been Benedict.” Noah adroitly snagged two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. “Even better...your father.”
Josie’s gagging noise made him chuckle.
She took a sip of champagne and gazed at him through lowered lashes. With broad shoulders, long legs and a lean athletic build, the man was made for black tie. The shiny dark strands of his hair, cut a bit too short for her taste, glistened like burnished walnut in the light of the chandelier.
The fingers wrapped around his own glass of champagne were long and elegant, much like an artist’s. Then again, she supposed Noah was an artist of sorts. Instead of a garret, his studio was a brilliantly lit operating room and his brush, a scalpel.
The reminder that she’d kissed a doctor with such unrestrained passion had her wrinkling her nose.
“Is something wrong with your champagne?” He glanced around as if searching for a waiter.
“It’s not the drink, it’s you,” she blurted then waited for the disapproving look.
Instead, Noah contemplated her as if she was a puzzle he was having difficulty solving.
“You’re a doctor,” she added for clarification,
