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Mistletoe Magic by Fern Michaels (40)

Chapter 14
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Parker said, mere inches away from her face. He smelled like freshly washed skin and shaving cream.
She wasn’t sure what to say or if she should say anything at all. She decided on not saying anything simply because she was shocked by her reaction to such a . . . chaste kiss! Mentally ticking back the clock, she realized it’d been almost a year since she’d gone out on a real date. Yes, that had to be the reason she was reacting like a lovesick teenager.
Angelica felt Parker’s gaze on her. It wasn’t like she could turn around and leave. Nope, she was stuck. Deciding to make the best of her situation, as there really wasn’t another choice, she looked him squarely in the eye. “What do you want from me? If you’re looking for a . . . cheap fling, look elsewhere. I certainly hope I haven’t done anything that would make you think I was that kind of woman.”
Did I actually say that? I must have sounded like an old spinster right out of the nineteenth century!
Parker laughed, and Angelica couldn’t help but smile behind her scarf. Once again, she came across as an idiot.
They were more than halfway up the mountain when Parker spoke. “Trust me, a fling, cheap or otherwise, is the last thing on my mind.” His voice became more serious, as though an unpleasant memory had surfaced.
Angelica wished she had kept quiet. Why couldn’t she just accept that a nice, handsome man kissed her for no reason other than that he wanted to? Did there have to be an answer for every move a man made toward her? Yes, yes, and yes, she told herself. It was probably the reason why she’d had so many dates, most of them disastrous in one way or another.
She pulled her goggles on top of her head, then wiped her eyes. The air was so cold, her eyes were watering. She knew without looking in a mirror that her nose was probably as red as Rudolph’s.
“Look, I shouldn’t have said that. I do that a lot,” she said as a way of explaining herself.
Parker still looked serious, all traces of that fantastically sexy smile gone. “No, I shouldn’t have kissed you. I don’t know what came over me. Look, I don’t normally do that either. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I kissed a woman. It’s been too long. I’m sorry,” he said.
Wanting to ask him to explain further, she stopped herself before she put her foot in her mouth again. “Hey, it was just a kiss. As long as you don’t expect anything else, then we’re okay. And if it makes you feel any better, it’s been a long time since I went out on a date myself. I work odd hours. Broadway being Broadway and all.” She didn’t dare tell him that, in point of fact, she worked off-off Broadway. She’d already gotten the impression he thought her profession was unprofessional.
And why did I just tell him I haven’t had a date in a long time? What is wrong with me? Surely, I must be oxygen deprived!
The cable whined, then came to a complete stop. Knowing this was a private lift, it seemed odd, but Angelica was sure the lift was used by other guests, too. Hanging in midair, the wind whistling through the trees, snow swirling beneath them, she couldn’t have asked for a more vulnerable position to be in, but again, her heart beat double time when she looked at the man seated next to her.
“I guess someone fell,” he said.
“I’m sure,” she answered, then turned away. She didn’t understand why she was feeling the way she was. It had never happened to her before. Ever. Zilch. Why now? And she didn’t know squat about the man! He could be a pervert or . . . well, she was sure he was decent and upstanding. She trusted her instincts on things like that. But her reaction to him was just not normal, of that she was sure.
With a clunk and groan, the lift slowly came to life, transporting them to the top of the mountain. Feeling as though she had to fill the silence between them, Angelica spoke the first words that came to mind. “Look, I didn’t mean what I just said. I mean, I haven’t had a date in a while, that’s true, but the other.” She turned away again, feeling a tiny bit ashamed of her chosen profession. “I don’t work on Broadway. Only once, and that was a very long time ago. I’ve been bartending and working in off-off-Broadway plays. Don’t get me wrong, they’re very successful in their own right, but still they are off Broadway.”
She could actually feel Parker’s gaze. It was as though he were trying to penetrate through all the layers of heavy clothing and see what lay beneath.
“You don’t have to explain your choices to me,” Parker said. “To each his own.”
That was not the answer she was hoping for, but it was what it was, she thought, as they dangled once again in midair. “I wonder why they keep stopping,” she said.
“People fall, and it takes a few minutes to get them up and out of the way. If they’re inexperienced, it takes longer.”
She knew all of that. It was not her first time on the slopes. Wishing she’d skied downhill to the public lift, Angelica felt very confused as a tumble of thoughts and feelings assailed her. One moment, she wanted to throw herself at this handsome man seated next to her, and in the next, she wanted to run, or rather ski away from him as fast as she could. She’d heard her friends talk, and she wasn’t so unsophisticated that she did not know what was happening to her. The question was—why now? Why this man, who lived across the country? Why not one of the actors she worked with? Someone she knew and could see whenever she chose? She hadn’t come halfway across the country just to fall in love with a stranger. She came to meditate on her chosen profession.
The lift returned to life, jolting her back to the present. Though they were only stopped for a couple of minutes, it had seemed much longer. She could not sit next to this man and say nothing. She felt too exposed, and somewhat puzzled at this new turn of events. But, she remembered she was an actress, and acting she could do. She only had to pretend that she was onstage and that this situation was staged just for her.
The only difference was that she did not have a script, so she did not know her partner’s lines.