One Mistletoe Wish. A.C. Arthur

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One Mistletoe Wish - A.C. Arthur The Taylors of Temptation

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woman with her, Gray noticed when he figured staring was probably just as rude as it was embarrassing on his part.

      “Hi, Millie. You trying to keep all the handsome men out here with you tonight?” the third woman asked, her smile wide and her eyes cheerful as she looked at Gray.

      She was a couple inches taller than Morgan, who he had noticed was wearing some pretty sexy heels tonight. The other woman also had on heels. Her hair was longer, curls relaxing on her shoulders as long, icicle-like earrings dangled and glowed. Pretty wasn’t a bold enough word for this one and the tight black dress she wore, with a festive red choker that had small jingle bells dangling from it, was definitely something to stare at. Still, Gray’s gaze went right back to Morgan.

      “Not at all,” Millie said, her smile faltering. “This is Grayson Taylor. You know, he’s one of the Taylors of Temptation.”

      Gray didn’t like that title any more than he liked the way Millie had said it—as if he was the Dracula of Transylvania.

      “Hello, Grayson Taylor,” the woman said as she extended her hand to him. “I’m Wendy Langston. I’m one of the Langstons of Temptation. We’ve been here forever, too, but most of us have done the smart thing and escaped as well.” She chuckled and so did Gray, liking her instantly.

      “Please,” he said, taking her hand and shaking it. “Call me Gray.”

      “Well, Gray, you should come on in and join the fun. You can sit with me and my sister, Morgan. I hear Magnolia Daniels was this year’s caterer. She just graduated from some fancy culinary college in New York, so she was anxious to come back home and show us all her skills,” Wendy told him.

      “My sister attended a culinary school in New York as well,” he said. “She owns her own restaurant now and teaches at the college. I wonder if it’s the same school Magnolia attended.”

      “There’s only one way for us to find out,” Wendy said as she easily stepped in front of Millie to snag Gray’s arm.

      This time, Gray wasn’t as irritated. In fact, he thought, he could appreciate Wendy’s cheerful demeanor. He could also like the fact that Morgan had looked a bit chagrined at the way her sister so easily stepped up to him.

      They walked through the double doors that Gray had sworn he hadn’t wanted to enter and he was pleasantly surprised, at least for a few moments. The lights were dim and there were tables all around the floor, covered in festive red cloths with what looked like little gingerbread houses in the center. Holiday music played softly in the background as fifty or so people walked around or hovered over the punch table.

      “I’m going to get something to drink,” he heard Morgan say and then looked up in enough time to see her walking hastily away from the table where Wendy had led him.

      “I believe you’ve met my younger sister already,” Wendy said as she took a seat in one of the folding chairs.

      Gray sat in a chair beside her after he’d forced himself to look away from Morgan’s retreating body.

      “Yes. We met last night at the community center,” he replied.

      Wendy nodded. “You interrupted Jacob Marley’s grand entrance in Mountainview Elementary’s first-grade-class presentation of A Christmas Carol.”

      “Is that what they were doing?” he asked, then recalled the little boy named Ethan saying something about “bah, hamburger” when he’d taken his place on the stage after Gray first arrived.

      “Yes. It’s one of Morgan’s favorites, so she begged the town council to let her class present the play, as opposed to the older members of the theater club, who had wanted to perform The Sound of Music. I think we’re better off with the kids and that has nothing to do with my sister being the director,” Wendy continued, chuckling again.

      “I hope it turns out well,” Gray responsed.

      He’d been wondering how long it was going to take Morgan to return. Not that he didn’t like talking to her sister. Well, actually, Gray wasn’t really in the mood to talk any more tonight. He did, however, want to be near Morgan Hill once again. That thought hadn’t occurred to him earlier when he’d been busily immersed in his work. Yet, the moment he saw her, he was unable—or unwilling...he couldn’t figure out which one just yet—to think about anything else.

      “It’s going to be fun. You should think about sticking around town to see the finished product.”

      This sister liked to talk. Gray was certain he hadn’t gotten this many words out of Morgan the night before and they’d been together longer. He looked at Wendy now, and asked, “When is the production taking place?”

      “Christmas Eve,” she told him. “You weren’t planning on selling the community center before then, were you?”

      Gray didn’t immediately respond. Christmas was weeks away. There was no way he planned on staying in town for that long, and while he was immediately going to put the buildings on the market, he wasn’t optimistic that they would sell so quickly. Who would want to buy run-down buildings in this small town? There was no market value to the purchases, only sentimental value, which he’d figured out from his talk with Millie, and Morgan’s immediate reaction to finding out who he was.

      “I don’t think they’ll be sold before Christmas,” he answered. “Maybe I’ll go help Morgan with the drinks.”

      Wendy had seemed to look at him knowingly as she replied, “Sure. You go right ahead and do that.”

      Regardless of what she said or thought about Gray as he walked away, he kept moving. Too many people wanted to chitchat with him in this town and he didn’t want any of that. What he wanted... Gray wasn’t quite certain. Sure, he’d thought he knew, just last night when he’d driven into town, and earlier, when he talked to Gemma, but at this moment...

      Morgan turned away from the punch table just as he walked up behind her. Quick footwork had him moving just before she could turn with her outstretched hands, which held two glasses filled with red punch. The red punch that Gray had no doubt would have splashed all over his white shirt had they collided in the way they’d seemed destined to do.

      “Let me help you with that,” Gray offered and reached for one of the glasses.

      She opened her mouth as if she was about to speak, then clapped her lips closed and allowed him to take the glass from her hand.

      “Why don’t we enjoy this over there near the tree,” he said.

      “That one is for my sister,” she said, nodding toward the glass in his hand.

      He shook his head and did not hesitate to lie. “She said she’d get something later.”

      “Why do you want to go over there? We can go back to our table,” she said before lifting her glass to her lips and taking a sip.

      “I want to be alone with you,” he said, again without any hesitation.

      Or any thought to what he was doing. All Gray could admit to with any sort of definitiveness was that he wanted to be with Morgan. His salacious thoughts from last night were at the forefront of his mind as he stood close to her, the light scent of her perfume wafting through the air.

      “And

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