A Christmas Prayer: An Autistic Child, a Father's Love, a Woman's Heart (Christmas Romance) by Linda Wood Rondeau Page A

tucked securely within Ethan’s strong arms with his long legs wrapped around hers. He leaned his head over her shoulders, his warm breath against the cold air thawing her heart.
    “One more run?” he asked.
    “Okay.”
    As they picked up speed on the descent, the tube tilted and they spilled out, rolling like logs down the rest of the slope. At the bottom, he helped her stand.
    Perhaps her eyes invited the kiss and he accepted; the warmth of his lips against hers both wonderful and frightening. Each kiss that followed was more dangerously enjoyable than the one before it, leaving no doubt that his desire matched hers.
    Yet, he pulled away first. “Nice doesn’t describe it, does it? Is there a word?”
    “You’re the song writer.”
    “And you’re the reporter. Maybe we should try a few more kisses and see if we can come up with an accurate description.”
    She stepped back enough to fall beyond his immediate grasp. “Or maybe we should make tracks for my place and hot chocolate? I don’t want to take advantage of Jasmine. She has a life. And Gib can be a handful. Plus, it’s getting time for Avata r. She’s had to watch it half a dozen times already this week.”
    “I’ve seen similar behaviors from dementia patients when visiting nursing homes. What do they call it?”
    “Perseveration? You go to nursing homes?”
    “Max’s grandmother is a patient at one in White Plains. When we visit, the staff asks me to sing a few songs for the residents. The most frequent request is for Folsom Prison Blues .”
    “You don’t sing like Johnny Cash.”
    “Don’t think so?” He imitated the legend’s sultry, deep voice on the first two bars of Ring of Fire .
    “Barring the nursing home gang, I think the fact you don’t sound like anyone else makes you more appealing, the markings of a true artist, in my opinion.”
    “A compliment? From Alexis Jennings? My day is made.”
    “More than the kiss?”
    “Okay … a close second.”
    “Opera is still my preferred genre. But, as far as Country goes, you’re my favorite.”
    “Better to be at the top of a short list than in the middle of a long one. Okay. Let’s go. As for Jasmine, she’ll have three dozen roses at her house when she gets home.”
    “Good call. She’d be insulted if you paid her; a little overkill on the flowers, though.”
    * * *
    Alexis unlocked the door, reset the alarm, and hollered into the kitchen as she climbed the steps. “Jasmine … I’m home. I’ll be right back. Ethan’s signing autographs for the masses assembled outside.”
    Unlocking her bedroom door, she threw in her coat, purse, and car keys, then checked to make sure she’d relocked everything; the memory of Ethan’s kisses broke her concentration on the trivial. Now what? What did the kiss imply? Did he want a night of pleasure? No. She was done with giving herself away on a whim. The last time brought too much heartache. Though, the temptation did flit across her senses.
    Sometimes reality stunk. Would she like those wonderful kisses to lead to a romantic relationship? Yes. How could she? With court only four days away, her world teetered on the edge of chaos, the worst possible time to indulge in something as wonderful as Ethan Jacobs’s kisses.
    “So?” Jasmine asked.
    “So?”
    “Don’t give me that tone of denial, girl … you’re glowing … he kissed you.”
    Alexis’s cheeks burned ten degrees beyond embarrassed.
    “I told you he likes you.”
    She shook her head to reinforce the lunacy of maintaining a relationship with Ethan. “Doesn’t matter if he does. I can’t get involved right now. Not with the benefit and court this week. My head’s spinning enough as it is. Any more speed and it’ll fly into next year.”
    “If Ethan likes you, don’t you think he’d be willing to ride the crazy wave with you? If it’s meant to be—”
    “It’s not. I promised God I wouldn’t let anything interfere with taking care of Gib. Not anything …