Let It Snow... by Jennifer LaBrecque, Leslie Kelly Read Free Book Online

the one who made her pulse race and her underwear dampen.
    “Hey, handsome,” said Jeannie with a simper.
    “Good evening,” the stranger replied, his voice slightly accented, as Philip’s was. He was also similarly featured, and good-looking, but something about the way his chin and nose were held higher than absolutely necessary told Claire he wasn’t much like the man she’d met in her kitchen.
    Still, better this man—who didn’t confuse and attract her—than his friend—who did.
    Claire had just breathed a sigh of relief that she wasn’t going to come face-to-face with the guy she couldn’t stop thinking about when the door swung open again, sending in a blast of cold air and hot man.
    Oh, boy, here we go .
    It was him. Big, strong, so unbelievably handsome, his hair windswept, his mouth curved in a smile that could stop traffic.
    Panty-dampening time. Damn it all.
    She turned and began shoveling chocolates molded into wreath, bell and Santa shapes from one tray to another. Then she put them back. Busy hands made a clean mind, or something like that. Actually, all her busy hands made was smeary chocolate.
    “Hello, Claire,” he said, his voice smooth, silky. Close.
    She spun around, to find him standing directly in front of her on the other side of the counter. “Uh, hi. How’s it going?”
    “How is what going?”
    She took a deep breath and tried again, wondering why this guy so easily flustered her. She’d never had trouble talking to a man before, but Philip left her unsure of herself and a little dizzy.
    “How are you doing? Is everything all right upstairs?”
    He nodded once. “All is well. Quite comfortable, though I did have to bring someone in to fix the heating apparatus.”
    Oh, great. Something else she owed him for.
    “Shelby is most happy that it is working now.”
    “How could anyone survive this climate without it?” called Philip’s companion—Shelby?—obviously overhearing. Then he went back to flirting with Jeannie, whose attention appeared to have drifted from her original hottie to the inferno who was now speaking to Claire. She was staring back and forth between them like a kid in a...well, whatever.
    “Sorry about that,” Claire said. “If you give me the receipt for the service call, I’ll pay you back.”
    “No need, it was quite inexpensive. And I wasn’t truly bothered by the cold, though we do come from a warm climate,” Philip said, that purr in his voice making her think of all kinds of warm, sweaty things.
    “Oh. Well, I can see how that would be different. It does get pretty cold here,” she mumbled.
    Reduced to talking about the weather? Was this really the best she could do? Her late mother, once a noted femme fatale, would be rolling over in her grave.
    Her mom had given up on Claire having any grace or feminine wiles by the time she was ten and hit five-eight. Claire had been all lanky build, clumsy feet, gangly arms and legs. Nothing like her petite, delicate mother, the ballerina, who’d been adored by men all over the country once upon a time. That was when Claire had finally been allowed to quit ballet lessons—which she’d loathed. She’d then focused on the one thing she’d loved to do since she’d been old enough to beg her grandmother to let her help in the kitchen: bake.
    “And you? You are well?” her tenant asked.
    “I’m fine.”
    “There have been no...incidents?”
    “Incidents?”
    “No strangers bothering you?”
    Realizing what he was talking about, she shook her head. “No. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about anymore.”
    “Not even this Mr. Nutcracker?”
    Claire chuckled under her breath as she remembered she’d thought this man could be a thug. She replied, “He’s not going to be a problem. Your rent money took care of that issue.”
    “As long as your brother paid off the people he owed.”
    Her jaw dropped.
    “It truly wasn’t difficult to figure out what had happened, and why he would have