“Is that what you were doing? I missed it. Better try again. I’ll be ready this time.”
Her eyes gleamed at the challenge and she leaned forward to torment him again with an almost-kiss. This time he was ready and moved his own mouth so he could kiss her firmly, decisively.
Any thought he had of only teasing her for a moment disappeared the moment his mouth tasted her again. She was sweet, salty, addicting, just like that kettle corn, and he couldn’t get enough.
She gave a little sigh, as if she’d been waiting for just this moment. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and she stepped closer, her curves pressed against him, and he forgot all about the ache in his leg.
They kissed far longer than they should have—and not nearly long enough. He wanted desperately to pull her into the other room, to sink down onto the sofa with her and hold her on his lap and explore every delicious inch of her.
She was aroused. He tasted it in her kiss and felt it in the trembling hands resting at his hips.
That strange tenderness he had experienced at the parade seemed to curl and dance around them, stronger than ever, and he wanted to tuck her against him and keep her safe forever.
She seemed to come to her senses much earlier than he did. He knew the instant she returned to reality. She hitched in a ragged little breath and then eased her mouth away from his, leaving him cold.
“This is a dangerous game, Marshall,” she said, her expression serious, intent. “One I’m not sure I’m strong enough to play with you.”
He wanted to argue with her. He’d like to tell her no harm could come from sharing more of those delicious sugar-salt kisses, but both of them would know it was a lie.
“For the record, you’re one of the strongest women I’ve ever met,” he murmured.
Without answering, she took another step back and shoved her hands in the pockets of her parka. “I’d better go find my children. Are you sure you’re all right?”
No. Something had changed during that intense, emotional kiss, something he didn’t want to examine closely right now.
“Fine,” he lied.
“I’ll see you later,” she said.
She gazed at him for a long moment, then turned around and headed into the night.
* * *
OUTSIDE, THE FIRST fragile snowflakes of the coming storm had begun to spiral down, catching the moonlight as they spun to earth. She lifted her face and they fell on her cheeks like that first whisper of a kiss between them, the one that never should have happened.
She shivered—but knew it wasn’t from the temperature, which had plummeted precipitously. Despite all the precautions she had taken, the entirely prudent and necessary defenses she had tried to build around her heart, she was coming to care for Marshall Bailey entirely too much.
She was halfway to being in love with him. Maybe even a little further than that, if she were perfectly honest with herself.
She wouldn’t allow it. End of story. She had fought too hard, climbed too far to reach this desperately needed state of peace and calm. For the first time in two years, she was in a good place, a healthy place. Her children were happy and content here in Haven Point, she had friends, her work was interesting and fulfilling.
At long last, her dreams were no longer haunted by grief, shame, fear.
Marshall called her strong. She wasn’t, not at all. But she was tenacious and she wanted to think she was resilient. She would draw on every ounce of strength she could muster—from anywhere she could find it—to protect her heart.
He didn’t need her help now. Not really. He was getting around better on the crutches and could probably fend for himself, for the most part. She had done as Wyn asked and helped him through the first difficult days after he was released from the hospital.
While he couldn’t yet drive, his mother and new stepfather were back in town. Charlene or Mike could step up if he needed a ride somewhere and Wynona and Katrina would both be coming home the following week for the holidays. He didn’t need Andrea anymore and she couldn’t risk further breaches in the defenses around her heart.
From now on, she would do her best to stay away from the man. It shouldn’t be that difficult—until Wynona asked Andie to help him, their worlds had hardly intersected. She had no reason to think that would change, moving forward.
She would leave it to Marshall to explain to his family that he and Andie were nothing to each other but neighbors.
With hands that trembled only a little, she opened the door, climbed into her vehicle and started the engine. Once she wasn’t in his company so often, she thought, these fledgling feelings would die a natural death.
She was almost sure of it.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN