and felt a shiver go through her.
‘What are you doing?’ she whispered.
He had to smile. ‘Enjoying another magical moment.’
Looked down into her face and then there was no way he could stop himself bending his head and brushing her lips with his. Watched her eyelids flutter closed and the idea that this prickly, independent woman trusted him enough to close her eyes and allow him closer filled him with delight.
Lips like strawberry velvet. A shiver of electricity he couldn’t deny. ‘Mmm. You taste nice.’
Her turn to smile as she opened her eyes and ducked her head to hide her face but he couldn’t have that. Wouldn’t have that as he slid one finger under chin, savoured the confusion in her eyes and face and then leant in for a proper kiss. She was like falling into a dream, soft in all the right places, especially her lips.
As she began to kiss him back there wasn’t much thinking in his mind after that but a whole lot of feeling was going on. Until abruptly she ended it.
Tara felt as if she was floating and then suddenly realised she was kissing the man everyone loved. Who did she think she was? She pulled away and turned her back on him. Picked up the towel she’d dropped. Didn’t know what had happened—one minute they’d been flirting and teasing, probably to get away from the previous conversations, and then he’d confused the heck out of her with the way he’d looked at her—and that kiss!
She could still feel the crush against his solid expanse of damp chest and was surprisingly still dazed by a kiss that had gone from gorgeously warm and yummy to scorching hot in a nanosecond.
And she’d thought he was a little stand-offish! This wasn’t going anywhere, except a one-night stand, maybe if she was lucky a one-month stand. Well, she’d been as bad as him. She sighed and turned back to him with a smile that she’d practised over the years that shielded her from the world.
‘Guess we’d better get back.’
He narrowed his eyes and there was a pause when she thought he was going to get all deep and personal or apologise, but he didn’t. Thank goodness.
She just wanted to finish drying off and walk back to the manse. Maintain the reality that she was playing with a toy that didn’t belong to her and if she kept touching it she’d be in deep trouble.
Simon really wanted to hold her hand, it would have been … nice? But Tara had tucked her fingers up under her elbows in a keep-off gesture that he couldn’t help reading. Maybe he had come on a bit strong but, lordy, when he’d kissed her the second time the heat between them had nearly singed his eyebrows off. The thought made him smile. And grimace because it obviously hadn’t affected her the way it had affected him. Did she realise the power those lips of hers held?
When they arrived back at the manse the kitchen was in chaos. Simon figured out that Louisa had cajoled Maeve into helping her assemble the Christmas tree and mounds of tinsel and baubles lay scattered across the kitchen table and cheesy Christmas tunes were playing in the background.
The manse had a big old lounge room but he knew every year Louisa put the Christmas tree up in the kitchen because that was the place everyone seemed to gravitate to—and this year was no different.
Simon loved the informality of it, unlike his mother’s colour-co-ordinated precision, and he enjoyed the bemused expression, mixed with a little embarrassment left over from their kiss, on Tara’s face as she looked round at him.
‘Excellent timing, Simon,’ Louisa said, as she handed him an armful of tiny star-shaped bulbs on a wire and a huge black plastic bag. She gestured vaguely to the screen door and he inclined his head to Tara and opened the door for her. The long post and rail veranda looked over the street and then the lake.
‘Outside is where it really happens.’ Good to have something to fill the silence between them. Awkward-R-Us. He waved the roll of bulbs at Tara and set about repairing the damage he’d done by kissing her.
‘This is the start of the outside contingent. My job is to help Dad put these up when I’m home.’ He pulled a little stepladder along behind him until he reached the end of the veranda and climbed up. Started to hang the tiny lights as far as he could reach before he climbed down again.
Tara was still looking bewildered and maybe still a little preoccupied from their kiss at the lake. He was sorry she was feeling uncomfortable, but he knew for a fact he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed her. He wanted to do it again. Instead he carried on the conversation because she sure wasn’t helping. ‘These go along the top wooden rail. You can see them from down the street. Looks very festive.’
‘I imagine it does.’ She closed her eyes and he realised she was doing one of those breathing things he’d seen her do before and when she opened her eyes she was the old Tara again.
She smiled, so she must be okay, and he felt inordinately relieved. ‘I’m not experienced at decorations. Put a few up in the ward last year when I worked Christmas week. Santa Claus was a big hit with the mums and their new babies.’
Now, there was a fantasy. Maybe he could dress up as Mr Claus and she’d sit on his knee. Naughty Simon. ‘Santa has potential for lots of things.’ He could feel the smile in his voice and packed that little make-believe away for later. Then he realised that, of course, she’d missed out on family Christmas for most of her life too. Not a nice thought. ‘I’m guessing he didn’t visit the home?’
She looked at him with disgust. ‘Don’t go there, Simon. I’m fine. They looked after me and I was never hungry. Lots of kids can’t say that.’
Okay, he knew that, but there was more to being cared for than food in your belly, he thought as he hung each loop of Christmas lights over the tiny hooks under the eaves, and winced again at how easy his own childhood had been.
He glanced towards the kitchen, where his sister stood watching Louisa tweak the tree.
Maeve had been loved and cared for and told she was wonderful since the day she was born. A lot of the time by Simon because he’d thought the sun shone out of his youngest sibling. Though that wasn’t doing him much good at the moment.
He remembered his father saying Tara was tough. He guessed she’d had to be. ‘Okay. Moving on.’ And he tried to. ‘As you are inexperienced I will explain. You, Mrs Claus, have to hold the big ladder while I put the star up.’
‘Louisa has a star?’ The look she gave him made up for everything. She appreciated him backing off. Okay. He’d avoid the orphanage topic but he still planned to make this Christmas special.
‘Yep. In the bag.’
Tara undid the string and peered in. ‘A blue one. Looks three feet tall?’
He was going down the stairs to the lawn. ‘Goes on the corner of the roof.’ He pulled out a large metal ladder from behind a water tank stand, and the long ladder reached all the way to the top of the roof.
Simon sneaked a look at her face, saw excitement growing as they put up the decorations, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
She was loving this!
The thought made his heart feel warm and a feeling of delighted indulgence expanded in his gut. ‘Louisa has everything Christmas. It started after she married Ned.
