Christmas Kisses For A Dollar

“Laurie Paige doesn’t miss…”

—New York Times bestselling author Catherine Coulter

“Laurie Paige adds humor and wit to a touching love story filled with heartfelt emotion and a thrilling cast of supporting characters.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub on Christmas Kisses for a Dollar

“It is always a joy to savor the consistent excellence of this outstanding author.”

—Romantic Times BOOKclub

LAURIE PAIGE

reports that she is working on her seventieth romance book. She is still married to her high school sweetheart. It’s cold and snowy in the mountains of northern California where she lives, but when she checks the weather news on TV, she notes the temperatures in New Orleans and other cities that got hit by Hurricane Katrina. While many people have found refuge in other states, she knows that, in the landscape of the heart, there’s no place like home.

Christmas Kisses for a Dollar

Laurie Paige

www.millsandboon.co.uk

This book is for Tara, who said, “Yes, you can” after I explained all the reasons I couldn’t. With thanks and warm fuzzies.

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

1

Christmas Kisses—$1.00

Jonathan Sinclair smiled at the provocative banner wafting in the December breeze. The sign, attached to two trees, floated over a booth wreathed in holly and cedar boughs. The occasion appeared to be an old-fashioned bazaar in the school yard.

He stopped at a red light and used the opportunity to assess the group waiting to buy a kiss. The line was long. He couldn’t see the woman from this angle, but the guys were young—some of them teenagers, he guessed, in line on a dare from their friends, most likely—while the rest were probably in their twenties, maybe thirties.

All single, he assumed. They didn’t have the look of men who were shackled to shrews, which, from his observations of life, were what women became once they got a man to the altar.

Or even before, as his own experience proved.

A shudder ran clear down to his toes as he remembered his close call in this very town. He’d been eighteen when the girl next door, who’d been twenty, had tried to trap him into marriage with the oldest trick in the book. Few people had believed he’d been innocent as he’d claimed.

It had been a learning experience. He went on the alert when women came on to him in too friendly a manner, and he suspected ulterior motives behind their smiles.

The light changed. He waited with resigned patience for the crowd to amble past the lined crosswalk. When the street was clear, he turned the corner.

Everyone in the county was in town for the festivities, it seemed. He grimaced at his poor timing and looked for a parking space near the feed-and-seed store. The fertilizer he’d ordered last week was in. All he wanted was to pick it up and get back to the ranch.

The ranch. Three hundred acres of pines and pasture, two hundred head of cattle and a commercial plant nursery.

He’d never expected to inherit the place although he’d loved it as a kid. He’d lit out on his own right after high school, off to see the world. His parents had been upset, but they hadn’t tried to stop him. They’d understood his restlessness.

Sorrow momentarily overshadowed the bright day. They’d died last spring in a flash flood, a known hazard in Texas. He still couldn’t believe they were gone. Life was short.…

He directed his thoughts to the present. He intended to revive the successful ranch operation his grandfather had run. Once the place was booming again, he’d sell the whole works, make some money and head out for parts unknown.

That was what he was good at—fixing up a rundown enterprise and selling it at a profit, then moving on. He’d learned to do that well in the years he’d been on his own and had made a good-size fortune by speculating in floundering companies. Of course he’d lost a bundle, too.

He spotted a parking space and whipped into it before the guy in the fancy car who was also eyeing the spot could beat him to it. With a triumphant grin of one-upmanship, Jon leapt to the ground from the pickup.

The breeze, straight off the Gulf of Mexico, gave him a damp caress. He’d been living in the far west where spit dried before it hit the ground. Here, thirty miles up Highway 12 from Beaumont, Texas, the air was humid year-round. It took a while to get used to that again.

Laughter from the cowboys lined up for the kisses caught his attention. He paused and glanced over the bed of the pickup to see what was going on…and stopped dead still. Then he simply stared at the woman who stood in the booth.

She was the loveliest, sexiest creature he’d ever seen.

Her hair was black—pure raven black. The sun glinted off it with no hints of red or blond in the deep waves that cascaded over her shoulders. It invited a man to sink his hands into it, to tangle his fingers in the long, shiny strands…to use it to hold her while he dropped kisses all over her mouth.

Her smile was radiant, her lips full and luscious. She wore a rosy-red lipstick, but he was willing to bet the color in her cheeks was natural.

It was her eyes that made her irresistible. They were blue with a touch of gray and maybe violet. He couldn’t tell for sure from this distance. Her lashes were long and black, weighting the lids and giving her a languorous air…as if she’d recently climbed out of bed after making the most tempestuous love a man could imagine.

His body surged to life at the thought.

Yeah, he could see what the big attraction was. If the line hadn’t been so long, he might have been tempted to join it.

Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he crossed the street to the store. It was locked. The sign in the window said the owner was at the bazaar and would open again at one.

Jon glanced at his watch. Five after twelve. He might as well eat lunch. If anything was open. For all he knew, the whole town had closed down to attend the event.

He headed across the street toward the school yard where there were several food booths. He spotted a hot-dog stand run by the rotary club. A sign explained that the proceeds of the bazaar were to go to a new gym for the local school. Well, he’d do his part for the community effort.

Another sweep of laughter sounded from the kissing booth. He paused in the shade of an oak tree about twenty feet away and watched as a bashful youth was egged on by his friends to take his kiss. When the boy handed over the dollar, the Venus in the kissing booth caught the kid by the ears and gave him a loud buss on the cheek. The boy blushed as red as the boiled shrimp on display at the seafood booth, but tossed his friends a proud grin as he strutted toward them across the lawn.

Heat swept over Jon and set a flame in his nether parts. There were certain circumstances during which he didn’t mind a woman holding on to his ears, either. He unobtrusively ran a hand down the front of his jeans to make sure he wasn’t about to bust his zipper. Good thing he’d put on briefs that morning.

He glanced at the hot-dog booth, pulled out his wallet, checked his money—he had six twenties—and gave a mental shrug. It was only money and it was for a good cause. He headed for the kissing line, tucking a bill into his shirt pocket as he went.

The guy in front of him was grinning like a weasel who’d found a hole in the henhouse as he waited for his turn to kiss the black-haired Venus. Jon disliked the man on sight.

“Hoo-wee,” the jerk said. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

“Do you know who she is?” Jon asked.

“Yeah. Anne Hyden. I went to school with her. Never got a chance to get close enough to kiss her, though.” The chump was obviously relishing the thought.

A stab of irritation hit Jon. He suppressed it. “She have a steady or something back then?”

“Nah.” The guy frowned as he searched through his memory. “She didn’t date nobody. Too good for the locals, I guess. Her uncle was the mayor. He still is. I figured she’d marry some rich guy when she went off to a fancy school up north, but she didn’t. I hear she’s been seeing a senator.”

Jon rolled the name over his tongue. Anne…Anne Hyden. He liked it. He observed her as she accepted the quick, dry kisses with an easy humor and a no-nonsense manner.

The blood stirred aggressively in his groin area as he thought of how he’d like to kiss her…wet and deep and sensual, with lips and tongue and hands all involved. None of this namby-pamby, closed-mouth stuff.

Not that he would do that here in front of a crowd. After all, he had some finesse.

But it was something to think about while he waited his turn. He grinned. It wouldn’t be long. She kept the line moving at a rapid clip with her friendly little smooches and teasing remarks to the men, all of whom she seemed to know.

Of course, to live in a town the size of Richport for a week, and not know everyone, would be difficult.

“I don’t see how the mayor can put up with that kind of display,” a feminine voice remarked.

Jon peered under the oak branch and spied two young matrons sitting in the shade on the other side of the tree. He grinned at the look of sour grapes on the face of the plump woman who was fanning herself furiously while she and her friend gossiped.

“Well, she did bring in the most money in the shortest time last year,” the other woman replied. “And the pastor of the Methodist church was the first in line this morning.”

“Humph,” remarked the first woman, her fan swishing back and forth in rampant disapproval.

The line moved forward. Jon settled his white Stetson firmly on his head as the breeze kicked up a few dust swirls along the side of the road. Two more in front of him.

Then it was the jerk’s turn. Jon found himself tensing for action the way he used to when he worked as a bouncer in a bar, which had been his first job after leaving home. With an effort, he relaxed his shoulders and his stance.

The guy in front of him handed over his dollar. He reached both hands out and grabbed the smiling Venus by the waist. A flicker of emotion darted through her eyes. Jon tensed again.

“Well, Snooze Allyn,” she said brightly, laying a hand against the guy’s chest. “Are you still napping after lunch the way you used to in Mrs. Brown’s English class?”

Jon relaxed when the jerk’s ears turned red. The lout let go of her waist. “Nah. My boss don’t like it.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, bosses are like that.” She held up her cheek to him. He dipped and took a quick peck at it, then ambled off with a cocky grin.

Jon saw the suppressed amusement in her eyes before she turned to him. “Violet,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?” Her expression became inquiring and, he thought, wary. Several emotions flickered through the intriguing depths. She pressed a hand against her chest as if disturbed by something.

His voice dropped to a husky murmur. “Your eyes. Blue with gray and a touch of violet. It’s a lethal combination.”

He couldn’t believe he’d said that…and in the sexiest voice he’d ever used on a woman—low and vibrant, as if they were already making love. A wave of hunger swept over him, stronger than anything he’d ever felt.

Her smile wavered for an instant, then reasserted itself. “You’re holding up the line,” she informed him. “Let’s see the color of your money, cowboy, else you’ll have to step aside.”

He placed the folded bill in her outstretched hand and pushed his hat out of the way. “Let me know when I’ve used this up,” he said and reached for her.

Anne glanced at the twenty he laid in her hand. Her heart started pounding again, the way it had when she’d first spied him staring at her from the shade of the old oak tree. His gaze had been so intent, fathoms deep and similar to the look of a hunter on the prowl. It had intrigued her and sent sensations spiraling into the innermost parts of her.

She scowled as her imagination went haywire, offering up all sorts of exotic wonders as she looked at his mouth. If he was determined to get his money’s worth, the kiss would go on rather long, the inane thought came to her.

Dumbfounded, she watched while he bent his head toward her. She got a glimpse of dark hair slanting across the brow of a narrow face with a strong chin, a thin nose and eyes that were silvery gray with a blue-gray line around the iris.

Staring into his eyes, she found she couldn’t look away. His gaze was intense…passionate…and other things she couldn’t name. Who was he?

She found herself caught up in a pair of arms that felt as strong and ropy as rawhide. The cowboy was on the slender side, an inch or so under six feet, but she sensed the strength he kept in check as his embrace pulled her forward and off-balance.

The wooden edge of the booth caught her at mid-thigh; then she felt heat all the way along the front of her body as she fell against the cowboy, dependent upon his strength to hold her up. She heard him give a grunt, then his arms tightened.

His lips hovered over hers, two inches away…one inch…a breath…

Alarm invaded every part of her, and for the life of her she couldn’t think of anything to say that would distract him from his obvious intent to kiss her soundly.

Twenty dollars’ worth!

“Don’t,” she finally managed in a stern tone, her heart working double time. The word hardly had time to form before his mouth touched hers. Her tongue accidentally stroked his lips.

She sensed his surprise, or maybe it was shock, for his chest surged upward against hers as he caught his breath, and his arms tightened in a convulsive embrace.

For the first time in his life, Jon forgot the basic tenet of self-preservation: Always keep your wits. Always.

When he grazed her lips and felt her tongue glide over his mouth, it was as if he’d been hit by a bolt of lightning. It burned out every thought of survival he’d ever had.

He only knew one thing: this was the woman he had to have. It was that simple.

And at the moment, that was enough—that he was holding her, kissing her. And it was the best thing he’d ever known.

She was warm and curvy in his arms, and she smelled like a summer garden after a light rain. Her fragrance wafted about them, becoming stronger as the heat between them intensified. He was drenched in hot desire.

Her hands clutched his shirt. She caught her breath and held it. Triumph flared briefly as he sensed her surprise, then the response she couldn’t hide.

“Mmm,” she crooned.

She slipped her hands into his hair, pulling it sharply as the passion increased. He cradled her head in one hand and took the kiss deeper, harder.

Vaguely, he heard noises around him, but the words didn’t penetrate the hazy fog of delight.

Then the Venus with the midnight hair collapsed in his arms.

Startled, he took her full weight as her head tilted back and she went totally limp. He stared at her, then realization dawned. She’d fainted.

“Young fool,” someone snarled behind him. “What do you think you’re doing—manhandling her like that?”

Someone grabbed his shoulder. Jon shrugged off the hand. Bending slightly, he hoisted Anne Hyden in his arms, lifted her clear of the booth and turned.

He faced an angry mob, all glaring at him. He glared back.

“Where should I take her?” he asked a woman who pushed her way forward and bent over Anne. “Someplace quiet,” he added, with a narrow-eyed warning holding off the school chum who’d kissed Anne before him.

“Her house,” the woman said, releasing Anne’s wrist after counting her pulse. Her eyes sparkled at him as if she found the whole incident amusing. She pointed. “Over there.”

He saw a white frame house nestled among hibiscus bushes across the side street from the school. He headed for it, the older woman brushing the crowd aside to let him through. Finally, he was in the clear.

Behind him, the older woman—a nurse by her actions—ordered the line to form again and took Anne’s place in the kissing booth. He heard several groans of disappointment.

An arm crept around his neck. He glanced down at the woman he held. Her eyes were still closed. Her cheeks were flushed an attractive pink, her breath came quickly between parted lips and her heart pounded. Her head slumped forward, nestling against his shoulder as if she’d often snuggled in his arms.

In his dreams, he thought, and wished they were on their way to a romantic tryst at that moment. She felt like an angel, light and ethereal, yet warm and womanly, too.

The door was open when he reached the house with its neat shrubs and flower borders. He went inside and laid the luscious burden on a comfortable-looking sofa.

He removed her shoes and swung her legs up. After putting a cushion under her head, he knelt and observed her closely, an odd anxiety constricting his chest. Surely he hadn’t hurt her.…

Bending, he gave her a closer perusal. “Okay,” he said after a silent minute, “you can open your eyes now.”

The thick black lashes fluttered, then popped up, and he stared into eyes the color of wood violets.

Anne was reluctant to give up the lovely experience of being in his arms. She placed a hand against her chest where her heart still beat in an irregular pattern. When she’d felt his lips on hers, it had nearly pounded out of her chest. Strange, to react so strongly to a kiss.

She’d reacted to him before that, she admitted. There had been a stabbing pang in her chest when she’d noticed him that first time, when he’d stood under the oak tree and watched her before making up his mind about buying a kiss.

She pulled herself together and glanced around. “Good, we’re alone.” She managed a wry smile.

He frowned at her. “What the hell was the fainting act about?” he demanded.

“I didn’t want you to get beat up or arrested for mauling me,” she explained, her sense of humor coming to the fore as her heart slowed and its beat evened out. She didn’t want him to know his kiss had affected her to the point of fainting. It sounded so utterly Victorian.

She sat up and swung her legs to the side, knees bent. She saw his gaze roam their length as she tucked her skirt around them, and she felt another flutter within her chest.

“Who was going to do the honors?” he asked in a dry voice. “The jerk you went to school with?”

“Snooze?” She laughed, regaining her equilibrium at this safe topic. “No, not him.”

He smiled, too, not cynically, but seemingly relaxed now that he knew she was all right. “Why would I get arrested?” he asked. “You were the one selling kisses. I was merely trying to get my money’s worth.”

“Twenty dollars,” she murmured, curious about him. “Do you always throw money away like that?”

She licked her lips when he continued to stare at her mouth as if he were thinking of starting the kiss all over again. “I didn’t consider it a waste.”

“It was too intimate for a public kiss.” She frowned at him. “And you didn’t quit when I pulled your hair.”

“I thought that was because you were excited, too.” He shook his head. “That never happened to me before.”

“What?”

“Getting lost in a kiss like that.”

Jon took in the delicate picture she presented. The heat, which hadn’t gone completely, surged anew. He wanted to strip her of the angelic outfit and find the devilish imp he detected deep in her gorgeous eyes.

“Black Irish,” he murmured, mesmerized all over again.

Her eyebrows lifted in question. They were as black as her hair and lashes, with a pronounced arch like a gull’s wing.

“That’s what my grandmother called my grandfather. He had Irish blue eyes, but hair as black as sin. She said it was the Spanish blood that got mixed in from sailors washing ashore after the defeat of the Armada.”

Anne smiled with delight at his story. She saw his silvery gaze flick to her lips once more. She remembered the taste of him when she’d tried to protest the kiss she could see coming but couldn’t get the word out in time.

With an effort, she resisted an urge to lick her lips again to see if she could still taste him there. That kiss had rocked her…right to her toes. A first for her, too.

His mouth was intriguing. The bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top. Both were well-defined, as if outlined by the artist who’d carved him from living marble.

“Keep looking at me like that and you might go into a real faint at my next kiss.”

Her heart did a tap dance against her chest. The pull was there between them. She backed off, using humor as a defense. “Yeah?” she challenged. “I’m waiting with a worm on my tongue.”

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A what?”

“Bated breath. Haven’t you been watching the reruns of ‘Mork and Mindy’?”

“No. I don’t have time for things like that.”

“Aha. An all-work, no-play, nose-to-the-grindstone kind of guy,” she mocked.

He ignored her light humor and gave her another perusal. “You have very tempting dimples.”

She lifted a hand to her mouth. “I’ve heard them described as cute, but tempting?”

Jon sat on the sofa beside her, crowding her so that his thigh pressed against her knees. “Yes, tempting.” He touched the tiny dimples that winked in and out at him as she talked or smiled. They were at the corners of her mouth. “They focus attention on your mouth. Make me think of other things I’d like to do to it…to you…with you.”

The dimples winked, disappeared. “I’d advise you to curb your, uh, impulses. This town is pretty straitlaced.”

He leaned closer and noticed that she didn’t flinch. Brave. He liked that in a woman. “Are you?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“You kissed me back.”

Anne shook her head. “I did no such thing. That was an accident when I touched your lips. I was trying to tell you not to act on what I could see in your eyes.”

“Which was?”

“Lust, clear as the nose on your face.”

“I wasn’t the only one who felt it,” he insisted. “You moved your lips under mine. And your heart was beating like sixty against my chest.”

For a moment, she thought of all the possibilities—falling in love, kissing, teasing, laughing, sleeping together, waking in each other’s arms. Having a home, children…well, it was a lovely thought, but those things were never to be, not for her.

She had the family curse.

For a moment, the old resentment rose. Because of her heart, she hadn’t been in the school band. She hadn’t been a cheerleader. She hadn’t played basketball or soccer.

Fragile, delicate little Anne, who mustn’t become overexcited, overheated, overjoyed. Poor Anne, who’d fainted when the captain of the football team had given her a smothering kiss one time. She’d been fifteen. It had been her last date while in high school. All the guys had been afraid she’d have heart failure and her aunt would kill them because of it.

Her mother’s heart had given out during childbirth. Two cousins had died from weak hearts almost at birth. She had a heart murmur, which wasn’t terribly serious in itself, but it was an indication of the family trait.

She wouldn’t pass it on to her children. To force them into a restricted life when all the world was there to be discovered, to watch them die before they’d hardly lived, to see them fall in love, marry, then die before their children had a chance to know them the way her own mother had? No, she simply wouldn’t, couldn’t do it.