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Carter felt a surge of heat rush though him. Her face had my hero written all over it, and what flesh-and-blood male could resist such unmasked admiration? To top it off, she looked precious in her Santa Claus hat. “What’s a nice Jewish girl like you doing in a hat like that?” he asked gruffly, mixed emotions raging through him. At that moment, Carter wished he were Santa, so he could pull her onto his lap.
He took her arm and led her down the hallway, into the study. “Mistletoe,” he whispered, motioning to the rafter in the ceiling. He kicked the door closed. With an urgency he couldn’t suppress, he pulled her to him and wrapped her in his arms, his lips finding hers, his hands in her hair, then down her back. The way she smelled, the way she tasted, the way her body fit so well with his, released feelings he’d kept restrained for months.
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“A little cranky, are we? For your information, Phoenix isn’t the sticks, and building a resort hotel isn’t what I’d call playing with blocks.”
Becky knew darn well where Carter had been and what he had been building. Her brother, who had remained in contact with him the whole time he’d been away, had felt the need to give her a detailed account of his friend’s activities. Nevertheless, there was no way she’d admit to Carter she’d been paying attention.
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