Holding Out for Christmas (The Christmas Tree Ranch #3)(17)

“Is it?” he asked. “If you’ll pardon the metaphor, I’m a man who believes in ‘taking the bull by the horns.’ If you heard something about me in that kitchen, I’d like an equal chance to explain myself.”

Megan sighed. She was cornered. There was only one way out—tell the truth. But she wasn’t about to tell him everything.

“It doesn’t matter, not really,” she said. “After all, we agreed to be just friends and have a good time.”

“So tell me, Megan,” he said.

“All right.” She shifted in the seat, turning slightly to face him. “I was told that you’d fallen head over heels for that singer at the Christmas Ball, and you were stacking all your hopes on the chance that she’d show up again, so you could meet her.”

“Oh,” he said.

“Not that I care. I don’t own you, Conner. If you’ve fallen for another woman, that’s none of my business. It’s just that . . .” She groped for the right words.

“ ‘Just that,’ what?” He turned onto Main Street. Twinkling Christmas lights shed glowing colors through the windshield.

“Just that it’s so . . . so stupid! You don’t even know her. Just because she’s pretty and can sing, that doesn’t mean she’s a nice person.”

“You sound as if you know something I don’t. You’re from Nashville. Do you know her?”

Megan winced. The question had hit close to home. “I know the type, that’s all,” she said. “Some women will do anything to get ahead in the business, even pretend to be someone they’re not. And they don’t care who they hurt. Sorry, I don’t mean to be judgmental. It’s just that you’re a nice guy. I don’t want to see you get your heart broken.”

“Thanks for your concern. I mean it.” He swung the Jeep around the corner, onto a narrow, unlit side street. “But it’s my heart. It’s been broken and mended before. And if it happens again, at least I’ll be able to say that I took a chance.”

And that’s the reason why I don’t want to see you again. Megan was about to speak the words, when he pulled over to the curb and turned to face her.

“I believe in taking chances,” he said. “I took a chance every time I climbed onto a bucking bull. Taking chances got me to a championship. It also got me damn near killed. That’s the luck of the draw. And it’s the same with relationships. Sometimes you get hurt. Once in a while, you win the grand prize. But if you’re too scared to take a chance, nothing happens.”

He reached for her across the seats, his fingertips brushing her cheek, his thumb gently lifting her chin. “Take a chance, Megan,” he said. “Climb onto this crazy ride and see where it takes us.”

He kissed her, his lips closing on hers with an easy sureness that quickened her pulse and sent whorls of pleasure cartwheeling through her body. She could have pulled away, but something about the gently teasing pressure of his mouth stirred longings so intense that she didn’t want them to end. She closed her eyes. A moan stirred in her throat as he nuzzled her lips, caressing, tantalizing . . .

Think! the voice of reason shouted in her head—and Megan knew she’d be a fool not to listen. The rascal certainly knew how to kiss. But then, he’d had plenty of practice. Was he practicing on her—maybe warming up for Lacy?

Think! The man had just confessed to crushing on another woman. Now he was kissing her—and getting away with it. Who did he think he was?

Summoning her outrage, she placed her hands on his chest and shoved him backward. Even in the dark, she could see that he was grinning like a satisfied cat.

“What did you think you were doing?” she sputtered.

“I was kissing you. And you liked it. Don’t tell me you didn’t.”

She turned away from him in the seat, gazing forward into the darkness beyond the windshield. “You are out of line, Conner Branch,” she said in her firmest teacher voice. “Take me home this minute.”

“As you wish.” He laughed as he put the Jeep in gear and pulled away from the curb. “I hope you’re not waiting for an apology.”

“I wouldn’t expect one from a man who thinks he’s so hot that women will beg him for a kiss.”

Still laughing, he swung the Jeep around and headed back toward Main Street. “You could’ve stopped me,” he said. “I’m aware that ‘no’ means no. And my hearing is excellent.”

But she hadn’t stopped him. The instant his hand had touched her face, she’d known that he was about to kiss her. She could have easily pulled away or spoken up, but she hadn’t. In fact, she’d kissed him back.

Hot-faced, Megan watched the colored Christmas lights blur into rainbows. Any argument she could raise would only sink her deeper. All she could do was let him take her home and, before getting out of the Jeep, make it clear that she never wanted to date him again.

“I like you, Megan,” he said, pulling up in front of her family’s house. “I hope you’ll let me see you again.”

The man had brass. She had to give him that. “I don’t know if that would be such a good idea,” she said.

“Why? Because I kissed you?”

“In part. But mostly because you’re holding out for another woman. For all I know, you were imagining her when you kissed me.”