Home for the Holidays by Debbie Macomber Page A

disbelieving snort. “You’ve gone completely out of your mind. There’s no chance of that.”
    â€œWhy not? Plenty of women have told me I’m a handsome son of a gun. Plus, I’m said to possess a certain charm. Heaven knows, I’m generous enough and rather—”
    â€œWho told you that? Your mother?” She made it sound like the most ludicrous thing she’d heard in years.
    â€œYou might be surprised to learn that I do have admirers.”
    Why this news should add fuel to the fire of her temper was beyond Cait, but she was so furious with him she could barely sit still. “I don’t doubt it, but if I fall in love with a man you can believe it won’t be just because he’s ‘a handsome son of a gun,’” she quoted sarcastically. “Look at Paul—he’s the type of man I’m attracted to. What’s on the inside matters more than outward appearances.”
    â€œThen why are you so worried about falling in love with me?”
    â€œI’m not worried! You’ve got it the wrong way around. The only reason I mentioned anything was because I thought you were beginning to take our times together too seriously.”
    â€œI already explained that wasn’t a problem.”
    â€œSo I heard.” Cait set her coffee aside. Joe was upsetting her so much that her hand was shaking hard enough to spill it.
    â€œWell,” Joe murmured, glancing at her. “You never did answer my question.”
    â€œWhich one?” she asked irritably.
    â€œAbout how I rated as a kisser.”
    â€œYou weren’t serious!”
    â€œOn the contrary.” He set his own coffee down and raised himself off the ottoman far enough to clasp her by the waist and pull her into his lap.
    Caught off balance, Cait fell onto his thighs, too astonished to struggle.
    â€œLet’s try it again,” he whispered in a rough undertone.
    â€œAh…” A frightening excitement took hold of Cait. Her mind commanded her to leap away from this man, but some emotion, far stronger than common sense or prudence, urged the opposite.
    Before she could form a protest, Joe bent toward her and covered her mouth with his. She’d hold herself stiff in his arms, that was what she’d do, teach him the lesson he deserved. How dared he assume she’d automatically fall in love with him. How dared he insinuate he was some…some Greek god all women adored. But the instant his lips met hers, Cait trembled with a mixture of shock and profound pleasure.
    Everything within her longed to cry out at the unfairness of it all. It shouldn’t be this good with Joe. They were friends, nothing more. This was the kind of response she expected when Paul kissed her. If he ever did.
    She meant to pull away, but instead, Cait moaned softly. It felt so incredibly wonderful. So incredibly right. At that moment, there didn’t seem to be anything to worry about—except the likelihood of dissolving in his arms then and there.
    Suddenly Joe broke the contact. Her instinctive disappointment, even more than the unexpectedness of the action, sent her eyes flying open. Her own dark eyes met his blue ones, which now seemed almost aquamarine.
    â€œSo, how do I rate?” he murmured thickly, as though he was having trouble speaking.
    â€œGood.” A one-word reply was all she could manage, although she was furious with him for asking.
    â€œJust good?”
    She nodded forcefully.
    â€œI thought we were better than that.”
    â€œWe?”
    â€œNaturally I’m only as good as my partner.”
    â€œTh-then how do you rate me?” She had to ask. Like a fool she handed him the ax and laid her neck on the chopping board. Joe was sure to use the opportunity to trample all over her ego, to turn the whole bewildering experience into a joke. She couldn’t take that right now. She dropped her gaze, waiting for him to devastate her.
    â€œMuch