Read Online Kissing Under the Mistletoe by Marina Adair - Free Book Online Page A

squeaked. “Why?”
    With her round face flush from singing and a halo of gray hair bounding around her cheeks, ChiChi looked more like Mrs. Claus than a wine heiress. But her tone was so stern, Regan felt like she had just been called to the principal’s office.
    “Yes, dear. I was hoping you could come a few minutes early when picking up Holly. There is something I wanted to speak with you about.”
    “Me?” Regan repeated, searching her face for some clue as to whether or not Gabe had told her exactly who Regan Martin was. Or if this was the meeting where Regan discovered that Holly’s scholarship was no longer valid, since it came with the job.
    When the woman just smiled, open and warm, Regan felt herself relax. The idea of disappointing someone who had been so wonderful to her and Holly made her stomachache. She would eventually have to tell ChiChi who she was, but for now it felt nice to have someone look at her like she was a good person.
    “No need to panic.” ChiChi patted her on the shoulder. “I wanted to ask you a favor. Why don’t we say two o’clock in the theater? I have a little office right off the dressing rooms. That will give you time to grab a cup of coffee and warm up a smidge. Plus, Pricilla makes a peppermint latte that is just shy of heaven.”
    Regan followed the woman’s eyes across Main Street to Pricilla’s Patisserie. The two-story brick-faced building had a welcoming red-and-white-striped awning with little dancing elves in the window. It also had the most beautiful cakes in the window, a poster of David Hasselhoff in Christmas garb taped to the door, and a smell wafting out that wasn’t even a little shy of heaven.
    Regan was cold, wet, and close to tears—a latte sounded perfect.
    “Ask for the Christmas Crawl. Pricilla uses homemade schnapps instead of that peppermint crap that the kids like.”
    “See you at two, then,” Regan said as ChiChi smacked Regan’s tush and sent her out into traffic with a wink.
    She hopped up on the curb and, setting her portfolio case down, pressed her face to the glass and practically had to wipe the drool off the corners of her mouth when she spotted the display case full of chocolate. Light, dark, semisweet, raspberry-filled, white, white with peanut butter, and—sweet baby Jesus—Rocky Road truffles.
    Eyes on the goal, she pushed open the door, stepped inside, took one look at a way-too-familiar and way-too-incredible backside in worn denim and walked right backout. She sprinted back across Main Street, cutting around the community park near the town hall, through a puddle that looked sole-deep when in reality it came up to her ankles, all the while with the rain slapping at her face. She flung open her car door, vaulted inside, turned the key, and...
    The engine didn’t turn over. She tried again.
    “Not today!” She thumped her head against the steering wheel several times before letting it rest there. She was soaked, she wanted chocolate, the Grinch had made her forget her portfolio case on the sidewalk, and now her car was flipping her the bird.
    She wanted to scream. Actually, she wanted to wad up her consignment-bought suit, shove it in her clunker of a car, and light them both on fire. And if Gabe DeLuca happened to be hiding in her trunk next to Randolph—well, merry freaking Christmas!
    Taking off her jacket, she climbed out of her car, her heels sinking into a full gutter of water. Muttering under her breath, she yanked open the hood and disconnected the terminals of the battery.
    “You’re a mean one, Mr. Grinch,” she hummed while scraping off the corrosion that had formed around one terminal before replacing it and doing the same to the next.
    She had just hit the chorus and was maneuvering the clampy doohickeys back into place when something musky and sexy skirted past her nose.
    She froze, afraid to breathe in any more male. Because with just that one scent, her thighs quivered and the day got that much