Robin could answer, the redhead stepped between them again.
“I heard you were helping out your aunt and uncle with the contest this year,” Sylvie said, trailing one of her talons down his chest.
His body cooling rapidly now that he wasn’t working, Declan edged away from her questing fingers and grabbed his coat. Shrugging into the extra layer of protection—from more than the chill—he glanced at the almost finished display. Nothing like the houses he usually built, but it still filled him with a comfortable sort of pride.
“That’s right. My aunt and uncle have a great idea, they just needed a little of my woodworking expertise.”
“You’re wasting your time. My daddy always wins the holiday contest. You know that. He claims it’s because I dress up as an angel and wave at the judges.”
Declan grimaced. He remembered one year she’d shown him what she wore under that costume. He’d had a hell of a time getting those feathers out of his … stuff.
“This is a new year,” was all he said, though. “The Coles have got as much of a shot as anyone.”
“We’ll see,” Sylvie claimed with a friendly smile. “I just wanted to stop by and say hi. And to invite you to the party over at Mike’s Bar to kick off the season. I’ll save a seat for you, okay?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug, knowing he wouldn’t go. Mike’s had been his father’s favorite drinking hole. Declan didn’t want to see it any more than he wanted to see Sylvie naked again.
Nope, the only woman he wanted to see naked was Mari, and Mari alone. He glanced across the street again, wondering where the hell she was.
CHAPTER NINE
MARI pulled into her mother’s driveway, glad to find Declan still hard at work across the street. She bounded out of her Jeep, ignoring the bags of decorations and supplies, and hurried over. She told herself it was to pitch her idea, not because she was becoming addicted to the zing of sexual excitement that he incited.
“Here to pay off your bet early?” Declan asked from his perch on a ladder. He’d finished the stage and was now adding touches of holiday glitz. It looked great. But hers was going to be better, she promised herself.
“I stopped by the town hall to enter the contest and got to visiting,” she responded. Mostly she’d been scoping out possible customers. Even though she’d rented her salon space, she wasn’t starting work until after the first of the year. But it never hurt to promote the business a little.
And, she admitted to herself, to see if people were still talking about her, Declan and her mother.
Which they were. She squared her shoulders, knowing she needed to use that as motivation to win this contest instead of pouting over the unfairness of it all.
“Get any good gossip?” Declan taunted good-naturedly.
She wasn’t about to tell him that they were still good fodder for the rumor mill. She wished people would move on. And they would, once Declan confessed.
“The guy who was supposed to work on the gazebo in the town square got hurt last week,” she said instead. “Now the council needs a carpenter. You interested?”
“No.”
“C’mon. You’d be great. They could really use help.” And if she saved the day by hauling Declan in, she’d be one step closer to regaining her golden-girl status with the town. That meant good cheer, friendly faces … and paying customers.
“Nah. They don’t need me,” he said, going back to screwing some doodad into another thingamabob.
Mari frowned. “Really, they do. And I’ll do my part. I’m not so great with a hammer, but you can teach me.”
“Let’s put it this way,” he countered, still playing with his screwdriver, “they might want help, but they won’t want mine.”
Mari huffed, sending a puff of chilled air around her head like smoke. She was fully aware that the town had treated him like crap. But if he’d just put in some time with them, everyone would see what a great guy he was and quit judging him by his past.
“How do you know that?” she asked in exasperation.
“If they wanted my skills, they’d ask me.”
His words were reasonable. His tone was mellow. So why did she think this was a huge deal for him?
“I’m asking you to help.”
“Not a good idea. Don’t you remember what happened the last time you ended up associated with me? If I recall, you are still trying to wash that stain away.”
Mari rolled her eyes.
“You should quit being so stubborn,” she warned. “Don’t forget, Santa keeps track of whether you’ve been naughty or nice.”
Declan’s laugh filled her with a lusty sort of joy. The kind that said he’d make her laugh just before he sent her screaming over that delicious edge of ecstasy.
“Darlin’, haven’t you heard? Naughty is nice.”
CHAPTER TEN
WITH a real smile on his face for the first time since he’d pulled into town, Declan backed his truck out of his father’s driveway, waving to the elderly neighbor, Mr. Roberts, as he went. The old guy gave him a suspicious look, but lifted his hand in return.
Was the town over his past indiscretions? Mari said they were—she was pushing him to donate an hour or two of swinging his hammer, and encouraged him to ask around about jobs and feel out the possibilities of sticking around. For a girl who was still running from rumors, she sure had a lot of faith in his ability to face them down.
Then again, maybe she just wanted to hang with him. He liked that idea. Especially since he wanted to spend a whole lot of time with her. The woman made him feel things … incredibly sexy, oddly sentimental and just plain good around her.
He drove into his uncle’s driveway and parked behind his ‘57 Chevy. He hopped out of his truck, excited to get started. And not just on the display.
Then he stopped so fast the coffee in his to-go cup splashed all over his fingers. He ignored the sting, staring in disbelief at the mess that’d been a music stage when he’d left the day before. Puddles of paint had congealed over the splintered wood littered across the lawn.
“I was just gonna call you,” Uncle Eric said as he came around the side of the house, his face set in grim anger. “Looks like someone got here before we did.”
Fury surged through Declan. His fist clenched on his toolbox as he battled the urge to send it flying into what was left of his display.
“Any idea who’d pull something like this?” Eric asked, adding his glare to the mess.
“Just one,” he muttered, his eyes cutting to the cozy little house across the street. Sometime since he’d gone home the evening before, Mari had strung
