It Started at Christmas...

by Janice Lynn

  They stayed in Edith’s room for a few more minutes, talking to her and trying to ascertain more clues about what was going on with her, then spoke with Edith’s nurse to check on the reason for doing the portable chest X-ray rather than having it done in the radiology department. Apparently, the machine had been having issues. Edith’s nurse was going to check with the radiologist and text McKenzie as soon as results were available.

  “Anyone else you need to see before we go?” she asked Lance.

  He shook his head. “I went by to check on the mayor prior to going to Edith’s room.”

  “Oh,” McKenzie acknowledged, glancing his way as they crossed the hospital parking lot. The wind nipped at her and she wished she’d changed from her lab coat into her jacket. “How is he doing?”

  “He’s recovering from his surgery nicely. The surgeon plans to release him to go home tomorrow as long as there are no negative changes between now and then.”

  “That’s good.”

  “You saved his life.”

  “If I hadn’t been there, you would have done so. It’s really no big deal.”

  “He thinks it is a big deal. So does his wife. They are very grateful you were there.”

  McKenzie wasn’t sure what Lance expected her to say. She’d just been at the right place at the right time and had helped do what had needed to be done.

  “He wants us to ride on his float in the Christmas parade.”

  “What?”

  “He invited us to ride on his float this Saturday.”

  “I don’t want to be in the Christmas parade.” Once upon a time she’d have loved to ride on a Christmas parade float.

  “You a Scrooge?”

  “No, but I don’t want to ride on a Christmas float and wave at people who are staring at me.”

  Ever since her fighting parents had caused a scene at school and her entire class had stared at McKenzie, as if she had somehow been responsible, McKenzie had hated being the center of attention.

  “That’s fine,” he said, not fazed by her reticence. “I’ll do the waving and you stare at me.”

  “How is that supposed to keep them from staring at me?”

  “I’m pretty sure everyone will be staring at the mayor and not us.”

  “I hope you told him no.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted in a half grin. “You’d hope wrong.”

  She stopped walking. “I’m not into being a spectacle.”

  She’d felt that way enough as a child thanks to her parents’ antics. She wouldn’t purposely put herself in that position again.

  “How is participating in a community Christmas parade being a spectacle?”

  She supposed he made a good point, but still...

  “Besides, don’t people stare at you when you run your races?”

  “Long-distance running doesn’t exactly draw a fan base.” She started toward his car again.

  “That a hint for me to come cheer you on at your next run?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t need anyone to cheer me on.”

  “What if I want to cheer you on?”

  She shook her head again. She didn’t want him or anyone else watching her run. She didn’t want to expect someone to be there and then them possibly not show up. To run because she loved running was one thing. To run and think someone was there, supporting her, and them not really be, well, she’d felt that disappointment multiple times throughout her childhood and she’d really prefer not to go down that road again.

  Some things just weren’t worth repeating.

  “I tell you what, if you want to come to one of my races, that’s fine. But not as a cheerleader. If you want to come,” she challenged, stopping at his car’s passenger side, “you run.”

  He opened the car door and grinned. “You’re inviting me to be on your team? I like the sound of that.”

  “There are no teams in the races I run.”

  “No? Well, maybe you’re running in the wrong races.”

  “I’m not.” She climbed into the seat and pulled the door to. She could hear his laughter as he rounded the car.

  “You have yourself a deal, McKenzie,” he said as he climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled his seat belt. “I’ll run with you. When’s your next race?”

  “I just did a half marathon on Saturday morning.” She thought over her schedule a moment. “I’m signed up for one on New Year’s Day morning. You should be able to still get signed up. It’s a local charity run so the guidelines aren’t strict.”

  “Length?”

  “It’s not a real long one, just a five-kilometer. Think you can do that?” she challenged. He was fit, but being fit didn’t mean one could run. She’d learned that with a few friends who’d wanted to go with her. They’d been exercise queens, but not so much into running. McKenzie was the opposite. She was way too uncoordinated to do dancing, or anything that required group coordination, but she was a boss when it came to running.

  His lips twitched with obvious amusement at her challenge. “You don’t have the exclusive on running, you know.”

  “I’ve never seen you out running,” she pointed out.

  “You’ve never seen me take a shower either, but I promise you I do so on a regular basis.”

  Lance. In the shower. Naked. Water sluicing over his body. She gulped. Not an image she wanted in her head. “Probably all cold ones.”

  Maybe she needed a cold one to douse the images of him in the shower because her imagination was going hot, hot, hot.

  He chuckled. “Only lately.”

  That got her attention. “You’re taking cold showers because of me?”

  “What do you think?”

  “That we shouldn’t be having this conversation.” She stared at him, unable to help asking again. “I’m really why you need to take cold showers lately?”

  He grinned. “I was only teasing, McKenzie. I haven’t taken a cold shower in years.”

  “That I believe.”

  “But not that I might be rejected and need cold water?”

  “I doubt you’re rejected often.”

  “Rarely, but it does happen from time to time.”

  “Is that why you’re here with me?”

  “Because you rejected me?” He shook his head. “I’m here with you because you were smart enough to say yes to getting frozen yogurt with me.”

  “And real food,” she reminded him as he put his car into reverse. “Don’t forget you have to feed me real food before plying me with dessert.”

  * * *

  McKenzie closed her mouth around her spoonful of frozen birthday-cake yogurt and slowly pulled the utensil from her mouth, leaving behind some of the cold, creamy substance.

  “Good?”

  Her gaze cut to the man sitting across the small round table from her. “What do you think?”

  “That watching you eat frozen yogurt should come with a black-label warning.”

  “Am I dangerous to your health?”

  “Just my peace of mind.”

  McKenzie’s lips twitched. “That makes us even.”

  They’d gone to a local steak house and McKenzie had gotten grilled chicken, broccoli and a side salad. She’d been so full when they’d left the restaurant that if not for Lance’s insistence that they do their part to support the Toys for Tots, she’d have begged off dessert. She’d been happy to discover the old adage about there always being room for ice cream had held true for frozen yogurt. She was enjoying the cold goodness.

  She was also enjoying the company.

  Lance had kept their conversation light, fun. They’d talked about everything from their favorite sports teams, to which McKenzie had had to admit she didn’t actually have favorites, to talking
about medical school. They’d argued in fun about a new reality singing television program she’d been surprised to learn he watched. Often she’d sit and have the show on while she was logged in to the clinic’s remote computer system and working on her charts. He did the same.

  “I’m glad you said yes, McKenzie.”

  “To frozen yogurt?”

  “To me.”

  Taking another bite, she shook her head. “I didn’t say yes to you.”

  His eyes twinkled. “That isn’t what I meant. We can take our time in that regard.”

  “Really?”

  For once he looked completely serious. “As much time as you want and need.”

  “What if I never want or need ‘that’?”

  “Then I will be reintroduced to cold showers,” he teased, taking a bite of his yogurt and not seeming at all concerned that she might not want or need “that,” which contrarily irked her a bit.

  “I’m not going to jump into bed with you tonight.”

  “I don’t expect you to.” He was still smiling as if they were talking about the weather rather than his sex life, or potential lack thereof.

  “But if I said yes, you would jump into my bed?”

  “With pleasure.”

  Shaking her head, she let out a long breath. “This morning, had someone told me I’d go out to dinner with you, go for dessert with you, I’d have told them they were wrong. It’s going to take time to get used to the idea that we are an item.”

  “Does it usually take a while to get used to the idea of dating someone?”

  “Not ever,” she admitted.

  “Why me?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe because for so long I’ve told myself I’m not allowed to date you.”

  “Because of work?”

  “Amongst other things.”

  “Explain.”

  “I’m not sure I can,” she admitted. How could she explain what she didn’t fully understand herself? Even if she could explain it to him, she wasn’t sure she’d want to. “Enough serious conversation. Tell me how you got started in community theater.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LANCE WALKED MCKENZIE to her front door, and stood on her porch yet again. This time he didn’t debate with himself about whether or not he was going to kiss her.

  He was going to.

  What he wasn’t going to do was go inside her place.

  Not that he didn’t want to.

  He did.

  Not that he didn’t think there was a big part of her that wanted him to.

  He did.

  But she was so torn about them being together that he’d like her to be 100 percent on board when they made that step.

  Why she was so torn, he wasn’t sure. Neither of them were virgins. Neither of them had long-term expectations of the relationship. Just that his every gut instinct told him to take his time if that’s what it took.

  Took for what?

  That’s what he couldn’t figure out.

  He just knew McKenzie was different, that for the first time in a long time he really liked a woman.

  Maybe for the first time since Shelby.

  Guilt slammed him, just as it always did when he thought of her. What right did he have to like another woman? He didn’t deserve that right. Not really. He took a deep breath and willed his mind not to go there. Not right now, although maybe he deserved to be reminded of it right now and every other living, breathing moment. Instead, he stared down into the pretty green eyes of the woman looking up at him with a thousand silent questions.

  “Well?” she asked. “Are we back to my having to ask for your next move? Seriously, I gave you more credit than this.”

  He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “If that were the case, what move would you ask me to make?”

  McKenzie let out an exaggerated sigh. “Just kiss me and get it over with.”

  He tweaked his finger across her pert, upturned nose. “For that, I should just go home.”

  She crossed her arms. “Fine. Go home.”

  “See if you care?”

  Her brows made a V. “What?”

  “I was finishing your rant for you.”

  “Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “Go home, Lance. Have your shower. Cold. Hot. Lukewarm. Whatever.”

  Despite his earlier thoughts, he couldn’t hold in his laughter at her indignation. “I intend to, but not before I kiss you good-night.”

  “Okay.”

  Okay? He smiled at her response, at the fact that she closed her eyes and waited for his mouth to cover hers, though her arms were still defensively crossed.

  She was amazingly beautiful with her hat pulled down over her ears and her scarf around her neck. The temperature was only in the upper fifties, so it wasn’t that cold. Just cold enough to need an outside layer.

  And to cause a shiver to run down Lance’s spine.

  It had probably been the cold and not the anticipation of kissing McKenzie that had caused his body to quiver.

  Maybe.

  “Well?” She peeped at him through one eye. “Sun’s going to be coming up if you don’t get a move on. Time’s a-wasting.”

  She closed her eye again and waited.

  Smiling, he leaned down, saw her chin tilt toward him in anticipation, but rather than cover her lips he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

  Her eyes popped open and met his, but she didn’t say anything.

  Her lips parted in invitation, but he still didn’t take them. He kissed the corner of each eye, her cheekbones, the exposed section of her neck just above her scarf. He kissed the corners of her mouth.

  She moaned, placed her gloved hands on his cheeks and stared up at him. She didn’t speak, though, just stood on tiptoe while pulling him toward her, taking what she wanted.

  Him.

  She covered his mouth with hers and the porch shifted beneath Lance’s feet. They threatened to kick up and take off on a happy flight.

  Unlike their previous kisses, where he’d initiated the contact, this time it was her mouth taking the lead. Her lips demanding more. Her hands pulling him closer and closer. Her body pressing up against his.

  Her wanting more, expressing that want through her body and actions.

  Lance moaned. Or growled. Or made some type of strange noise deep in his throat.

  Whatever the sound was, McKenzie pulled back and giggled. “What was that?”

  “A mating call?”

  “That was supposed to make me want to rip off your clothes and mate?”

  His lips twitched. “You’re telling me it didn’t?”

  Smiling, she shook her head. “Better go home and practice that one, big boy.”

  “Guess I’d better.” He rubbed his thumb across her cheek. “Thank you for tonight, McKenzie.”

  “You paid for dinner and dessert. Everything was delicious. I’m the one who should be thanking you, again.”

  “You were delicious.”

  She laughed. “Must have been leftover frozen yogurt.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  She met his gaze and her smile faded a little. “Tell me this isn’t a bad idea.”

  “‘This’?”

  She gnawed on her lower lip. “I don’t do long-term relationships, Lance. You know that. We’ve talked about that. This isn’t going to end with lots of feel-good moments.”

  “I do know that and am fine with it. I’m not looking for marriage either, McKenzie. Far from it.”

  “Then we both understand that this isn’t going anywhere between us. Not anywhere permanent or long lasting.”

  “We’re clear.” Lance wasn’t such a fool that he didn’t recognize th
at he’d only kissed her and yet he wanted McKenzie more than he recalled wanting any woman, ever.

  Even Shelby.

  Then again, he’d been a kid when he and Shelby had been together, barely a man. Old enough to enter into adulthood with her only to lose her before either of them had experienced the real world. Typically, when he dated, Shelby didn’t play on his mind so much. Typically, when he dated, he didn’t feel as involved as he already felt with McKenzie.

  “I’ll see you in the morning?” she asked, staring up at him curiously.

  “Without a doubt.”

  Her smile returned. “I’m glad.”

  With that, she planted one last, quick kiss on his mouth then went into her house, leaving him on her front porch staring at her closed front door and wondering what the hell he was getting himself into and if he should run while he still could.

  * * *

  McKenzie ran as fast as she could, but her feet weren’t cooperating. Each time she tried to lift her running shoe–clad foot, it was as if it weighed a ton and she didn’t have the strength to do more than lean in the direction she wanted to go. She stared off into the distance. Nothing. There was nothing there. Just gray-black nothingness.

  Yet, desperately, she attempted to move her feet in that direction.

  Fear pumped her blood through her body.

  She had to run.

  Had to.

  Yet, try as she might, nothing was happening.

  Run, McKenzie, run before...

  Before what?

  She wasn’t sure. There was nothing to run to. Was she running from something?

  She turned, was shocked to see Lance standing behind her.

  Again, she tried to move her feet, but nothing happened. Desperation pumped through her. She had to get away from him. Fast.

  She glanced down at her running shoes and frowned. Gone were her running shoes and in their place were concrete blocks where her shoes and feet should be.

  What was going on?

  She glanced over her shoulder and saw that Lance was casually strolling toward her. He was taking his time, not in any rush, not even breaking a sweat, but he was steadily closing the gap between them.