A Little Country Christmas - Carolyn Brown Page 0,96
mixture with the corn bread, bread crumbs, chicken broth, poultry seasoning, and sage. Mix well and transfer to a 9 x 12-inch baking dish. Bake covered for 45 minutes or until well set and cooked through.
Collier detected movement at the top of the staircase and saw Iris standing in the doorway leading into her apartment. He moved off the top stair, angled his head, and brushed a light kiss over her lips. The kiss ended as quickly as it’d begun, her moist breath whispering over his jaw.
“Happy Thanksgiving, beautiful.”
Collier hadn’t lied when he called her beautiful. Her light makeup, short hair brushed back off her face, and the orange-and-black color-block dress that hugged every curve of her slim, toned body threatened to send his libido into overdrive. His gaze shifted lower to her bare legs and feet in a pair of snakeskin leather wedges in variegated colors of black, red, and orange.
“Happy Thanksgiving to you too,” she said softly. “Please come in and I’ll show you where to set up the table.”
Collier bit down on his lower lip as he followed Iris across the living room to the dining area. Damn, he thought, even her walk is sexy. Iris’s experience as a chef was on full display. Along one wall were three serving tables, which held a variety of warming trays. The delicious aromas coming from them made his mouth water. Plates were stacked at the end of one table, while the dining room table, covered with a lacy tablecloth, was set with crystal water goblets, wineglasses, silver place settings, and place cards bearing the names of her guests written in a flowery calligraphy.
A vase of bright autumn flowers and leaves in shades of red, orange, and yellow, in keeping with the holiday theme, doubled as the table’s centerpiece.
“How early did you have to get up to do all of this?” he asked, pulling out the legs to the card table.
“Five. I get up at that time every morning because I start work at six. You can put it right over here.” Iris pointed to a spot several feet from the dining area table.
He positioned the table in front of the window looking out onto Main Street. Collier and Iris looked at each other, then out the window when they heard a tapping sound against the glass. It was raining. Whereas most people complained about rain, Collier welcomed it because he’d spent too many years living and fighting in arid countries where daytime temperatures exceeded triple digits.
He reached for Iris’s wrist, pulling her close. “I know we didn’t meet the conventional way, but I’d like to start over.”
She blinked. “How?”
His gaze lingered on her soft parted lips. “I’d like to ask you whether you’d consider going out with me.”
Her eyebrows rose. “You mean dating?”
He smiled and nodded. “Yes. Dating.”
It’d been much too long since she’d dated, and she needed to recapture the normalcy that should’ve been so much a part of a single, thirty-one-year-old woman’s social life.
“Okay,” she said after a pause. “But let’s do this right. Tell me a bit about Scrappy. I want to know you better.”
Collier’s arms went around her waist and his eyes darkened with desire, gold flecks sparking. “Scrappy wasn’t very nice. Collier is a much more interesting character.”
Anchoring her arms under his shoulders, Iris leaned into his hard body, enjoying his warmth through the crisp pale blue cotton shirt. “I’ll let you know which one I like best.”
Collier chuckled. “Please don’t tell me you’re into bad boys.”
“Good guys are boring.” She patted his back. “We can talk more about that after dinner.”
Collier pressed his mouth along the column of her silken neck. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but never boring.”
The sound of someone clearing their throat reached Iris and Collier at the same time, and they sprang apart like teenagers caught doing something wrong. Her mother and father stood in the doorway, their expressions speaking volumes. It was obvious they hadn’t expected to see her in the arms of a man when she’d told her parents that she’d sworn off men for the rest of her life.
She approached her parents, kissing her mother and then her father. “Welcome.” She didn’t see her father glaring at Collier. “Mom, Dad, I want you to meet my friend.” It was when she made the introductions that she noticed the twitching muscle in her father’s jaw. She groaned inwardly. He’d become somewhat overprotective since her divorce.
Collier was the first to offer his hand. “It’s nice meeting