Her long brown hair was tucked beneath her hat and the matching red scarf was wrapped around her neck and tucked beneath her thick white coat. Her eyes glowed as warmly as the hot cocoa she sometimes served him before he left for his hotel room each night. Her nose had turned pink from the cold December air and so had her cheeks.
His gaze dropped to her mouth. Her lips were pink and shiny from the lip balm she’d put on before they’d gotten out of the truck. He’d told her the truth. Shiny lips weren’t his thing.
Not on him. On Sarah? Shiny lips were downright kissable.
He looked up, met her gaze, and realized her attention was no longer on the tree, but on him, on how he was studying her.
The enchanting twinkle in her eyes from finding the tree was gone, replaced by something new, something foreign and exciting. Something alluring that beckoned him to move closer. He stepped nearer, his gaze dropping back to her shiny lips, before returning to her eyes.
Something tightened in his chest, making breathing difficult as he stared into her eyes, seeing things that could make a jaded man believe in Santa Claus and Christmas miracles.
Because Sarah made his chest flutter. Everything seemed possible—seemed magical—when she was near.
Her lips parted. To tell him he was crazy?
He was crazy. This was Sarah. Sweet, good Sarah.
Her eyes searched his, questioning, tempting.
He took a deep breath, the cold December air sticking in his throat.
“Bodie,” she said, her voice a huskier tone than usual, as if maybe she was struggling to get her breath, too.
Just as he was on the verge of giving in to the urge to touch his lips to Sarah’s, Harry barked and jerked against the leash in Bodie’s hand, pulling him back to reality and toward Sarah’s tree.
Whatever magic was swirling in Sarah’s eyes dissipated, and common sense returned.
What kind of Christmas spell had come over him to almost kiss Sarah? To convince him that she wanted him to kiss her?
“Harry, stop barking,” he ordered, surprised the dog was pulling against the short length of the leash. But the dog kept barking, getting louder and more persistent.
Bodie frowned. “Quiet, Harry. You’ll get us thrown out of a Christmas tree farm. I wouldn’t mind, but Sarah might not forgive us.”
Harry stopped barking, but he didn’t seem happy about it. Standing at attention next to Bodie, he gave a low growl toward the tree.
“Maybe there’s a squirrel in the tree,” Sarah suggested, moving to check around the tree.
The penny dropped when he spotted a flash of brightly colored hair. Bodie shook his head. “More like a butterfly.”
“A...oh,” Sarah exclaimed as a bright green bundle peeked around from the other side. “Rosie!”
A red-faced Sarah jumped back, almost bumping into Bodie. He reached out to steady her, but she shook off his hand.
“Imagine bumping into you two here!” the older woman said as she tucked a stray blue hair back under her olive-colored hat.
Harry gave a low yelp, reminding everyone that he’d known this person was there and that he’d tried to warn them.
Annoyed with himself that he’d been so caught up in Sarah that he’d not realized they were being watched by one of Sarah’s spying friends, Bodie stooped to pet his dog, glad for the chance to clear his head of the Christmas spirit that had him acting a fool.
“What are you doing here?” Sarah asked.
“Same as you, I imagine. Looking for a tree,” the woman, Rosie, said from deep wine-painted lips that stood out sharply in comparison to her neon green ski pants and pea-colored jacket.
“Mr. Lewis, too long no see.” She held out her gloved hand. The green of her gloves matched the deep olive of her scarf and hat, but that was all that matched about her ensemble. She was like fifty shades of green.
He straightened and took the woman’s green glove, meaning to give her hand a quick shake.
“Oh,” Rosie exclaimed as she grasped his bare hand and didn’t let go. “So big and strong.”