Kisses on Her Christmas List by Susan Meier Page B

Friday.” She smiled. “We’ll be fine.”
    Rory got a cup of coffee and headed to the table. Sitting across from her, he noticed she wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup. Her hair had been combed but not styled and the riot of curls made her look young, carefree. Kissable.
    His heart cartwheeled in his chest as longing sprinted through him. But he’d already been through this in his head the night before, so he ignored the yearning in favor of the more important issue. In spite of the fact that he’d almost kissed her the night before, she wasn’t upset, angry or even standoffish. She still liked having him and Finley at her home.
    He picked up his coffee, drank a long swallow, then said, “How about if I make omelets this morning?”
    â€œOh, I love omelets!” Her face brightened in a way that shot an arrow of arousal through him. He didn’t know what it was about this woman that attracted him so, but he did know that these feelings were inappropriate. She’d done so much for them in the past two days that he owed her. He shouldn’t be ogling her or fantasizing about kissing her.
    â€œI have some ham, some cheese. I’ll bet there’s even a green pepper or two in the refrigerator.”
    â€œWestern omelets it is, then.”
    Yawning, Finley pushed open the swinging door. “Morning.”
    Rory scooped her off the floor. “Morning to you, too.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m making omelets.”
    Her eyes widened with delight. “Good!” She scooted down. “I’ll set the table.”
    Shannon caught his gaze, her eyebrows rising in question. He shrugged. But he knew why Finley was so helpful, so accommodating. He’d like to take credit, but he couldn’t. Shannon was the one who’d so easily guided her into helping with meals and setting the table, keeping her busy so she wouldn’t get bored and misbehave.
    And the way he thanked her was with inappropriate thoughts of kissing her?
    Not good, Rory. Seriously, not good.
    Shannon chopped the green peppers and ham, while he gathered eggs, beat them in a bowl. They worked together companionably, happily, as Finley set out plates and silver. But when breakfast was over, Finley slid off her seat. “Are we going now?”
    Rory looked at Shannon. Then realized what he’d done. He hadn’t just turned to her for help with Finley. He trusted her. He wanted her advice.
    That was not good. Not because she couldn’t help, but because his reaction had been automatic. Instinctive.
    â€œAre we ever going to get out of here?”
    Shannon rose from the table, taking Finley’s plate with her. “Aren’t you having fun?”
    Her lip thrust out. “Yeah. Sort of.”
    â€œThe roads are still pretty bad,” Rory said. He walked over to her and lifted her into his arms. “Unless the snowplow comes through sometime today, we’re still stuck here.”
    Her lower lip jutted out even farther. “Okay.”
    Shannon understood her cabin fever, but multiplied by about fifty. Not only was she stuck in her house, but she was also stuck with a man she was really coming to like who wouldn’t want her if he knew the truth about her. Even if he was interested and asked her out, she’d never accept a date. Lying awake the night before, she’d realized that if they dated, at some point she’d have to tell him she couldn’t have kids. The last man she’d told hadn’t taken it so well. Just like Bryce, Rory wanted kids. Was it worth a few weeks or months of her happiness to put him in a position of having to dump her when she told him?
    It wasn’t. Which was why the subject of a date or romance or even liking each other would never come up, if she could help it. And why needing to keep Finley busy was such a lucky, lucky thing.
    She walked over to the six-year-old. “I have an idea. I have a neighbor who lives