Lips That Touch Mine by Wendy Lindstrom

heart convulsed.
    Oh, no. No.
She rose to her feet.
Not another warning. Not today.
    Boyd wouldn't threaten her. He wouldn't. So
who would have sent this note?
    Any of Boyd's patrons on familiar terms with
Sailor.
    The dog tilted his head and stared at her as
if trying to understand the sudden shift in her demeanor. Her
fingers fumbled as she untied the ribbon from around the note and
unrolled the parchment.
     
    Merry Christmas, Claire.
    Sailor and I would like to take you for a sleigh
ride to celebrate the season. Say yes and I'll close my saloon for
the night.
    Boyd.
     
    Her breath rushed out, and she sagged against
the desk.
    It wasn't a warning. It was an invitation.
From Boyd.
    Lord, she was nothing but a frightened
goose!
    Sailor nudged her knees with his nose, as if
saying he needed an answer for his master.
    She swallowed and tried to calm her erratic
heartbeat, her palm against her chest. It wasn't a threat, she
reassured herself.
    Sailor barked twice, his front paws lifting
off the floor.
    "A gentleman doesn't rush a lady," she said,
but she reached for a pen from her desk. She flattened the note on
the desktop, prepared to write a short regret, but the last
sentence caught her eye. "Say yes and I'll close my saloon for the
night."
    She grinned. He'd finally seduced her into
saying yes to one of his proposals. His offer was too tempting to
pass up.
    What a blessing it would be to have no noise
for one entire evening. Two, if she could finagle it. A smile
bloomed on her face as she wrote her reply.
     
    Dear Mr. Grayson,
    Close your saloon Christmas Eve and Christmas night,
and I will be ready in an hour.
     
    She rolled the note, tied it to the ribbon,
then kissed Sailor's spotted head before sending him outside. He
ran across the street and bounded up the saloon steps where Boyd
was waiting.
    She waved to her handsome neighbor, assuring
herself she was only going with him to help the temperance cause.
Getting out of her lonely house for a while would be an added
benefit.
    But an hour later, when Boyd pulled up in
front of the house, her heart somersaulted. The white sleigh was
decked with red ribbons and silver bells. Two handsome bay Morgans
stood in full harness. Sailor—the silly darling—was perched on the
floor in front of the seat, still wearing the huge red bow around
his neck.
    Boyd wore a heavy gray ulster, a
Windsor-style plush cap, and a white smile that melted the last of
her resistance. He hopped down from the sleigh, swept his cap off
his head, and executed a ridiculous bow that made her laugh.
    "The Pemberton Inn is officially closed for
two evenings," he said, "which leaves me at your service for
forty-eight hours."
    She warned herself not to be drawn in by his
flirting and his charm. Charm had nearly been the death of her
before. She knew men like Boyd didn't change their bad habits. And
women like her couldn't live with them.
    He swept his gloved hand toward the sleigh, a
Portland cutter with hickory knees, nickel-plated arm rails, and a
springback seat with a green, broadcloth-upholstered spring
cushion. "Your coach awaits, fair lady."
    She laughed and trudged through the snow.
"Where did you get this sleigh?"
    "My brother Radford and his wife Evelyn own a
livery. Evelyn and my niece Rebecca decorated the sleigh for
us."
    "It's beautiful."
    "I'll give your compliments to Evelyn and
Rebecca." He lifted her into the sleigh, climbed aboard and sat
beside her.
    Sailor stuck his nose between their knees,
wheezing and panting and begging for attention. Boyd wrapped his
gloved fingers around Sailor's jaw and stared the dog in the eyes.
"Other side, pal."
    Claire opened her arms to the dog. "Don't let
him bother you, Sailor. Come here and keep me warm. "
    The mutt barreled onto the seat but lost his
balance, his wet paws scratching at the cushion as he scrambled to
stay in the sleigh. His clumsy, comical actions made her laugh.
    "You are precious," she said, brushing his
nose with her wool mitten.