Mission of Christmas by Candice Gilmer
Copyright 2009 Lyrical Press, Inc.

  • Mission of Christmas
  • Candice Gilmer


    • “What about this one?” I asked him, rubbing some of the lotion on my hand and sticking it in his face.

    Andrew smelled my hand. I could feel his exhaled breath across my fingers as he smelled it a second time. When he looked me in the eyes, my stomach dropped right out onto the floor. His eyes were dark, really dark, like totally heady and strong and masculine, and all my girly parts immediately squealed.

    I yanked my hand back. “It’s not a piece of candy.”

    A slip of a smile ran over his face. “Sorry. Yeah, I think that will work.”

    We picked up a couple bottles of the lotion, a bottle of the hand soap, and a bottle of the little essential oil stuff, all the same scent. When we took it to the front, the lady, who made the usual doe-eyes at Andrew, offered to wrap it for him in a special gift basket.

    He didn’t seem to notice her attention.

    I shook my head as we started to walk out. “You should have asked for her number.”

    “Why?”

    “She was all about you.”

    “I wasn’t interested in her.”

    I turned and looked at the gal as we headed back into the swarm of customers. “Why not? She’s cute. All perky and firm in the right places.”

    “I’ve had firm and perky. I’m more interested in soft and sullen now.”

    I snorted. If I didn’t know better, I might have thought he was talking about me.

    I snuck a glance at him. He wasn’t looking at me.

    Good.

    No need to screw up a good thing.