Her Mistletoe Husband by Renee Roszel Page A

shaky...feverish...short of breath. And her lips were swollen. Swollen and sizzling! That had to be bad. Squeezing her eyes shut, she slumped against the door jamb, her mind shrieking, Yes — dear heaven — please let it be the flu.

CHAPTER SIX
    T HAT evening, Elissa discovered to her amazement that she was hungry, and went upstairs to make a turkey sandwich. She wasn’t surprised to find someone there ahead of her, but was grateful it was Helen, not Alex. Her sister explained that the rest of the family and a few guests—as well as Mr. Inn Stealer—were in the parlor enjoying the warm fire and a friendly chat.
    Helen was slicing turkey. “We were taking bets on when you’d come up for air.” She smiled. “You know, Lis, it’s not healthy to spend so much time underground. People will think you’re a mole.”
    Elissa managed a weak grin. “Well, I’m a starving mole.” She pulled up a chair and slathered mustard on the wheat bread Helen had laid out. She laughed wryly. “This afternoon I thought I would never be able to eat again.”
    Helen handed her the plate of sliced turkey, then drew up a chair beside her at the table. “You need lots of energy.”
    There was something odd in Helen’s tone, and Elissa looked her way. “What do you mean?”
    Helen leaned closer, though there was nobody within earshot. “For your wild love affair with Alex.”
    Elissa stilled, unable to believe her ears. “Are you insane?”
    Helen took the mustard knife from her sister’s limp hand and began to apply the condiment to another piece of bread. “Don’t be coy, Lis. It’s as plain as your flaming red hair that you’ve met your match.” She nudged Elissa’s shoulder. “Now you have somebody you can argue with to your heart’s content. I’ve heard it’s the only way lawyers can have orgasms—arguing themselves into a state of sexual euphoria.”
    Elissa knew her jaw had gone slack, but she couldn’t seem to do anything about it. She could only gape at her sister, aghast. Where had the shy little protector of broken animals gone? Who was this woman glibly discussing lawyers and their orgasms?
    Seemingly unperturbed, Helen went back to making sandwiches. “It’s too bad you’ve already had your birthday, or I’d suggest you go take a nap in the mansion.” She peered at Elissa, her expression teasing. “I’d use my charming personality to entice Alex over there the first thing in the morning and—well, let nature take its course.” She prodded her sister suggestively with her elbow.
    The impact helped bring Elissa back, her temper flaring. She tried to squelch it After all, hadn’t she taken great pains to make sure her sisters didn’t know her true feelings about Alex D’Amour. “Don’t be silly,” she snapped, then forced her tone to be more neutral. “Alex and I are just acquaintances. To be honest, I find him—utterly—resistible.”
    Helen’s smile faded for an instant before it was refreshed. She chuckled. “For a second there I almost believed you.” Standing, she indicated a platter of sandwiches that had somehow been thrown together while Elissa was in her trance. “But your actions speak louder than your words.”
    Elissa vaulted up. “What actions?” She’d had to force herself several times not to jump the man bodily and pummel him into the ground. Maybe she shouldn’t have bothered being so discreet.
    Helen picked up the platter. “You look at him all the time. Your eyes say things.”
    â€œNo they don’t!” Elissa dogged her sister’s heels as she headed toward the kitchen door. “My eyes haven’t even given the slightest thought to that man!”
    â€œWhat man?” came a deep voice. Both women stum bled to a halt when Alex appeared in the