Page 81 of Mistletoe and Christmas Kisses

Kate sighed and rolled her eyes. “Mother, Mrs. Walker is here.”

“One moment, dear,” her mother called.

Kate pressed her hand to her stomach. One moment? One moment in hell. Oh, she could smell him: smoke and leather. Man. She recognized his scent, had tucked it in her memories, a sliver beneath her skin. If she had to, if she wanted to, she could select it from a thousand others.

Easy when it used to cling to her clothing, to her hair, to her skin.

To her sheets.

Horribly vivid images assaulted her as his fragrance traveled from her nostrils to her brain.

Please, Mother, please hurry, she prayed and turned to face the couple whose mingled laughter crowded the shop.

“Why, Mr. Barkley, all that for a newspaper article? And with a broken arm?”

“I didn’t break the arm, darling. Someone shot a hole through it.”

“Shot?” Kate said, leaning in before she was able to stop herself.

Tanner’s pale blue eyes shifted to her, held. Until a subtle cough forced a break. He turned, smiled into Lila’s upturned face, shrugged.

Lila twisted the beaded fringe dangling from her purse around her finger. “Such craziness over a newspaper? Grief! My family is in a respectable business.” She sniffed. “Banking.”

Tanner slipped a cheroot from his coat pocket and grasped it between his teeth. “Respectable? I’m not sure I agree, although my family’s heart pumps with the same veins.” He leaned, dipping the tip into a sconce sitting atop the counter.

Lila frowned at his lack of courtesy and waved her hand before her face. “Veins? Is your father a doctor?”

Kate focused her attention on the poinsettia basket. Thank goodness for beauty.

Although she could not deny her curiosity about Tanner’s family. Beyond the basics, he had not disclosed much.

“Doctors.” He shook his head. Gray ash drifted from his cheroot. “No doctors. Banking. My grandfather, my father. God help, even my poor brother.”

Lila preened, spiking up on her toes in rapture. And interest. “A large bank?”

“Fairly.” He blew a breath of smoke in Kate’s direction, although his gaze remained on the woman standing by his side. “Sloane-Barkley.”

“Sloane-Barkley?” Lila frowned, heels slapping the floor. “I’ve never heard of them.”

“Sloane-Barkley,” Kate repeated, choking on the smoke. Sloane-Barkley? Tanner’s family was the Barkley in Sloane-Barkley? Stocks and bonds Sloane-Barkley? Textbook case study Sloane-Barkley?

“Something wrong, Kat?”

She swung her head up. “Wrong? What could possibly be wrong, Mr. Barkley?”

“Must have been my imagination. I thought I detected a hint of surprise.” He scrutinized her face then retreated with a forced smile.

“Surprise? Why, you could be a traveling circus performer for all I know. Oh, no, that’s absurd. Let me guess: a newspaperman. A newspaperman who is an heir to a small banking fortune.” She snapped her fingers. “Yes, that’s it.”

“Sorry to find you gave up the heir for, what is his name again, Crawford?”

She turned and walked out the back door before another thought formed. Or dear heaven, another response. The wind snatched her skirts as she crossed the alley behind the row of shops. She elbowed past a string of prickly shrubs, ripping her sleeve on a stubborn branch. Beginning to shiver, she started to run. Ran until her lungs ached, until her skin stung. Cotton stockings and thin wool did little to protect her from the cold.

She bowed at the waist, gulping air. Memories and pain flooded her mind. Damn him. She yanked her spectacles from her face and rubbed her eyes, her hand trembling. The sound of pounding footfalls reached her ears.

“Kat? What the hell are you doing?”

She whipped around. “You bastard,” she cried and flung her spectacles at him.