The Christmas Clue by Delores Fossen Page B

Christmas,” Cass mumbled.
    “Yeah,” he practically snapped. “I bet holidays at your massive family estate were something else. All that glitter and glitz.”
    Well, that took care of her nostalgic mood. “No. I miss Christmas. Being with friends. Wrapping presents. Baking cookies.”
    “You bake cookies?” Not quite a snarl, but close.
    Cass shifted her position so she could see him but still glance out the window. “There it is again. I took Psychology 101, so I know what’s going on here. Transference. Vanessa was a snobby heiress who did a thorough job of stabbing your heart with the heels of her overpriced designer stilettos. So, you assume that I, too, am a snobbish heiress capable of only thinking of myself. And maybe I was, once. But look at me—I don’t look so rich and snobby now, do I?”
    Much to her surprise, he did look at her. Really looked at her with those intense Nordic-blue eyes. “I have no idea why I want to kiss you.”
    She sputtered out a cough of surprise. And mentally scrambled to come up with an explanation. Thankfully, one came that didn’t involve her attraction to bad boys. “Psych 101 again—you want the distraction so you won’t have to deal with the thoughts of fatherhood. Danger you can handle. In fact, you thrive on it. But fatherhood, that scares you, doesn’t it?”
    The snarl returned. It was coupled with a low growl in his throat. And a lethal glare. She’d crossed the line. Cass swallowed hard and would have moved away from him.
    There wasn’t time.
    He reached out. Lightning fast. Because he was still holding his gun, both his hand and his Glock went around the back of her neck. She felt the cold steel on her skin.
    And she felt him, hot and bad.
    Matt dragged her closer. Snapped to him. His mouth went to hers.
    And he kissed her until she went limp.
     
     
    T HE KISS WASN ’ T SLOW and lingering.
    It was hard and punishing.
    Definitely not a kiss of foreplay or romance. Okay, maybe there was some passion, but it ended so quickly that Matt didn’t have time to think.
    He didn’t want to think.
    All he knew was that he didn’t dare allow the kiss go on. Not with her seemingly willing mouth. So, he let go of Cass and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “I was right. Even in those clothes and with that bad haircut, you taste expensive.”
    “You taste dangerous,” she countered.
    The corner of his mouth hitched. Not a smile. Not a smile of humor, anyway. It was the smile of a man who knew exactly what all of this meant. Cass no doubt knew, too.
    She was expensive.
    He was dangerous.
    They were opposites, and they were attracted to each other.
    But the truth was that attraction was all hormones and the need for a diversion. That smile also hopefully told her that they wouldn’t be doing it again anytime soon.
    Even if his body clamored that it would like to go another round.
    “Say it,” he grumbled. It was time to put some new barriers between them. “I’m a jackass.”
    “You’re a jackass,” Cass accommodated. “But—”
    “No more Psych 101 babble. I’m a jackass Justice Department agent. You’re an expensive-tasting fugitive. If we’re lucky, we’ll get into Dominic’s place, take my daughter and find the evidence you need. Then we’ll part company and never see each other again.”
    “Absolutely.” And she sounded downright perky about it, too.
    Well, what the heck had he expected? They both had personal stakes in this, but those stakes were at opposite ends of the proverbial spectrum. Despite her claims to the contrary, if it came down to it, Cass would do what it took to save herself. And he would do what it took to rescue his daughter. They weren’t partners.
    More like two surly prison escapees handcuffed together.
    Who’d just kissed.
    “Say something,” he insisted.
    She stared at him. “Say something, but not about that kiss, right?”
    “Damn right.”
    “Okay. Let’s talk about Dominic’s sister, Annette.” There was