Holiday in Your Heart Read Online Free Page A

she studied him more closely. Normally, Hank’s assistants were young guys, but this man was at least her age. Maybe that was why he’d made her think of Tom Cruise. A few strands of silver threaded that wavy, black hair, and lines cut lightly into the skin around his eyes and between his nose and mouth. His skin was medium brown, something other than a suntan left over from summer. She guessed he was mixed race, maybe part South Asian or Native Canadian. His eyes were unexpected, a mix of blue and green that was stunning against that darkish skin. Black stubble shadowed his jaw, and a smudge of grease on one strong cheekbone made her finger itch to smooth it away. To be honest, her fingers, her entire body, itched to touch him all over, even though he was greasy and smelled like a machine shop.
    She’d dated a lot of good-looking guys, but had she ever felt this kind of immediate chemistry?
    It seemed as if the feeling might be mutual, because he’d more or less frozen, staring at her face. She smiled, flexing her feminine power. Guys had always been drawn to her red hair, sparkling green eyes, and full lips.
    He grinned back, the lines running from his nose to his lips turning into dimpled clefts.
    Maribeth liked men. Always had; probably always would. Just because she’d decided to become a single parent, that was no reason not to enjoy being with a particularly attractive guy. One who drew her with an almost magnetic appeal. “You’re new in town,” she said.
    â€œThat’s not a question,” he noted.
    â€œA guy like you, if you’d been in Caribou Crossing long, I’d have known.” The words themselves were neutral, but the way she said them wasn’t. She was flirting and making no bones about it.
    He laughed. “You’re not shy, are you?”
    â€œNot for a single day of my life. Seems to me it’s a waste of time.”
    The humor faded from his face, leaving him looking older. “Since you don’t like wasting your time, I should tell you that I’m not, you know, looking to date.”
    Her eyes widened with surprise. Well, that certainly told her where she stood. Except that she could have sworn he was attracted to her. “Married?” she guessed. “Or involved?”
    He shook his head. “And don’t want to be.”
    The hottest guy she’d met in forever, and he was turning her down. She shouldn’t feel such a jolt of disappointment. After all, she had better plans for the evening anyhow: shopping for a sperm donor. “I should pay my bill.”
    â€œSure. Let me see if I can find it on the computer.” He jiggled the mouse, clicked some keys, and asked, “Last name?”
    â€œScott.”
    A moment later, he said, “Got it.” Another click, and a printer hummed to life. He took the page and handed it over. “Look about right?”
    She leaned over the invoice and curls tumbled into her face. Her hair, thick and wavy down past her shoulders, was getting unruly. Shoving it back with an impatient “pfft,” she muttered to herself, “I need to call Brooke and make a hair appointment.” She scrutinized the bill and then took a credit card from her wallet. “This looks fine.”
    Mo didn’t seem to notice the card. He was staring at her face. “Brooke?” His voice croaked. “Brooke, uh, Brannon?”
    She nodded. “Do you know her?”
    â€œDo you?” he countered.
    Frowning in puzzlement, she said, “She’s a good friend as well as being my hairstylist. How do you know her?”
    â€œI, uh . . .” He finally took the credit card she’d been holding out and ran it through Hank’s machine, taking more time than the task required. And not answering her question.
    Weird.
    Mo handed the card and two copies of the receipt to her. “Sign this one, please. So, do you know her son, too? Evan?”
    â€œSure.” She