Part 11 (1/2)

Oh, for Pete's sake, would somebody put her out of her misery? She licked suddenly dry lips.

”But getting involved with you wouldn't work out well. Neither of us needs that kind of drama.”

”You think?” He s.h.i.+fted closer, the rough denim of his jeans nudging her bare knee.

She should pull away. Should do anything other than stare at the chiseled line of his jaw, the thick column of his throat, and think...It is such a bad idea, but just one more kiss?

So why had her muscles frozen in place?

Because Nate Fraser had slipped under her guard and weaseled from her a grudging trust. Sure, his plans risked exposing her and Drew to media scrutiny, and if she dared dream of something other than a brief affair he'd trample her heart underfoot en route to the nearest airport.

Still, as he leaned forward and brushed a soft kiss on her temple, disappointment hollowed her stomach.

”Maybe you're right.” He stood and stepped past her trembling legs, pausing at the back door. ”Goodnight.”

That, more than anything, stiffened her resolve. Nate Fraser wasn't a permanent fixture in her life. He was here for one reason only, and once the reason to stay disappeared, so would he.

”Five sleeps until Christmas and we're getting our tree today,” Drew said over his bowl of two wheat biscuits.

”Oh. Nice.” Nate scooped up another spoonful of cereal. How fast could he gulp back the coffee without burning the roof of his mouth?

He'd planned to skip breakfast this morning after the intense conversation with Lauren the night before, but Drew had been on the deck and busted Nate as he'd walked from the garage to his Range Rover.

”You can't go without breakfast,” Drew hollered. ”Mummy says it's the most 'portant meal of the day.”

Okay, running for his car with a candy bar in his pocket could be considered cowardly. The alternative of facing Lauren, when against all good sense he wanted to kiss the heck out of her and be d.a.m.ned, made him edgy. But then the kid peeked through the deck railing with his big, sad eyes.

Such a sucker, Nate.

Lauren said nothing as he kicked off his work boots and stepped into her kitchen, just smiled her mysterious, feminine smile and placed a mug of coffee on the counter.

Drew's slippered feet b.u.mping rhythmically on the legs of his chair jerked him back to the here and now. ”You wanna come?”

”I, ah-” He scrambled for an excuse.

”The tree's too heavy for me and Mummy to carry by ourselves.” The boy kept his eyes downcast as he swung his feet.

”Drew.” Lauren hurried over, an apologetic expression on her face. ”Nate's got a lot of work to do, and we'll take the car. We'll manage fine.”

Drew snuck him a glance. ”Last year, we only had a fake tree. It didn't smell like Christmas.”

Nate's mind flicked back to the token, foot-high fake Christmas tree with a red metal stand his parents carted from village to village, country to country until he'd reached age eight or nine and they had decided he was too old for such things. Those stiff, tinsel-wrapped-around-wire branches hadn't smelled much like Christmas either.

Ah, h.e.l.l. He sighed. ”I can spare you an hour. It's only neighborly, right?”

And that's how, thirty minutes later, he found himself following Drew and Lauren up an overgrown bush path at the back of Todd's property, lugging the chainsaw and trying desperately to keep his gaze away from the woman's curvy, denim-clad a.s.s.

Java padded at his side, chuffing out a deep bark as Nate stumbled over a snarled root.

”A warning to watch my step or to keep my eyes to myself?” he muttered.

The dog plopped down to scratch his ear, his black eyes never leaving Nate's face.

”Yeah, thought so.”

The path opened up ahead into a field that had been cleared for Kathy's fruit trees and a smattering of head-high pruned pines. Sweet, tangy, Christmas scent wafted over him. Drew darted between pine trees, running from one to another.

”This one, no-this one, this one!” Drew hopped from foot to foot. ”C'mon guys, hurry up!”

It struck him then, as Lauren's laughter spilled into the breeze, that a real family would do this kind of thing. Hike out to a field together a few days before Christmas, the dad carrying the chainsaw, the dog peeing on every other clump of gra.s.s, the kid vibrating with excitement, and the mum so d.a.m.n s.e.xy in her blue jeans and Jingle-Bell-Rocker tee s.h.i.+rt that the dad thought all his Christmas wishes had been granted already.

Except Nate wasn't the dad in this cozy family outing; he was just some guy. The neighbor.

So get it together, man. Because that's how he wanted it. That's how it had to be.

Lauren pointed at the chainsaw and tipped her chin at the tree Drew finally selected. ”Knock yourself out.”

Her brown hair blew across her face, and she brushed the strands aside with a grin. ”I figure a baby pine shouldn't tax you too much.”

Handling the chainsaw was harder than it looked when the woman's shapely behind and endlessly long legs kept distracting him. But he sawed through the tree trunk without evisceration, so bonus points for him.

The pine conquered, Drew and Java raced back along the path.

”Front or back?” Lauren said as he slipped the chainsaw guard on.

Like he'd let her carry the heaviest part of the tree while he took the spindly top. ”Back.”

She shrugged. ”I can carry the chainsaw then.”

Snorting out a laugh, he picked up the chainsaw and wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the tree trunk.

”Do I look like a ninety-pound weakling?”

Nate glanced up, and her cheeks were stained pink, almost as if she'd been staring at his a.s.s as he'd bent over. Well, h.e.l.l. Maybe she had been.

”Suit yourself.” She stalked over to the other end of the pine and tugged it up, shooting him an arched look over her shoulder.

He grinned, and her flush deepened. Being at the back would certainly afford him an entertaining view.

”Lead the way.”

Whistling as they trudged across the gra.s.s, Nate admired the graceful sway of her hips, the long stride that kept in perfect synchronization with his. Easy on the eyes, that was for sure.

”What will you do once Mac's property is done? Another coffee-table book?” she asked as they hit the start of the downward trail.

”That's the plan. After the sale, I'll finally be in a position to quit the twenty-four-seven life of a photojournalist.”

”Won't you find it hard to give up the constant adrenaline rush?”