Mrs. Miracle Page 0,40

did check out her references." He raised the coffee cup to his mouth and hesitated with the mug halfway to his lips. His gaze stretched to the far side of the room.

Reba glanced over her shoulder and discovered a twig of mistletoe dangling from the doorway leading into the kitchen. The twins or possibly Mrs. Merkle had placed it there before they'd left for the movie.

The air in the room seemed to grow warm as the awareness between them became stronger. Reba moistened her lips, remembering their exchange the night of their first date. The kisses had been wonderful. A renewal. A discovery. Reba was confident that Seth had experienced the power of their attraction as strongly as she.

"Mrs. Merkle, no doubt," he offered, clearing his throat. "I don't want you to think...you know, that I brought you over here on the pretext of...well, seducing you."

"With mistletoe?"

"Yes." He stood and walked over to the fireplace, which was the farthest point he could be from her and still remain in the same room. "I invited you to dinner, and the next thing you know we're here in the house, alone, and there's all these not-so-subtle hints that I'd like to pick up where we left off Friday night."

"Would you?" she asked, lowering her gaze.

"Yes." His response was sharp and immediate. "Maybe I should lie about it, but I don't see much sense in that. It's been a lot of years since I was in the dating scene, and I don't know how to play those games any longer."

"I don't, either."

"You were married?" His eyes held hers, his look intense.

"No," she whispered, and then amended, "Almost...the engagement was broken." She didn't offer any other information; didn't see the point. He couldn't possibly understand, and she wouldn't ask it of him.

"It does seem a shame to waste that mistletoe, don't you think?" He moved toward the kitchen doorway and stood under the Christmas decoration.

Smiling, Reba set aside her coffee and walked toward him. They stood facing each other, and for a long moment neither spoke. Then, as if this were what they'd been waiting for, what they'd both anticipated from the moment Mrs. Merkle had left with the twins, they moved into each other's arms.

Reba's eyes fluttered closed as Seth gathered her close. She wanted this, needed this, and sighed audibly when his lips met hers. His kiss left her breathless and clinging. It had been like this the first time, too. Her head had been spinning ever since. He gave her hope, helped her to believe that there could be a future for them.

"Do you think this is what she was talking about?" Reba asked.

Seth spread small kisses on the underside of her neck. "Who?"

"Mrs. Miracle." She'd said all things were possible with God. Only this felt easy, much too easy.

"Maybe so." Seth assured her once more with another deep, soul-stirring kiss.

Chapter 16

If you're waiting for a sign from God, this is it.

- Mrs. Miracle

"You left the milk out again," Sharon reminded her husband pointedly.

Without comment, Jerry scooted his chair away from the table, removed the milk carton from the counter, and placed it back inside the refrigerator.

Her husband looked at her as if he had something on his mind, but whatever it was, he let it go. They seemed to be at an impasse. Once they would have joked and laughed at how silly they were being, but that time was gone, and they both knew it. What had started out as a minor disagreement over a cruise and Christmas had evolved into something much more serious.

They were sleeping apart and cooking their own meals. It was ridiculous. Stupid. Childish, and a hundred other adjectives Sharon could think of.

Jerry cooking! She cringed as she glanced around at her once orderly kitchen. How any man could make such a mess scrambling eggs was beyond her. Eggshells and spilled milk puddled across the countertop, and runny egg had dried on her once spotless stovetop. The peanut butter had been left out, along with the bread and just about everything else Jerry had touched in the last several days.

Regretfully Sharon realized she had no one to blame but herself. She was the one who'd insisted her husband cook his own meals. The words had been spoken in anger, but she'd regretted them almost immediately. Surely Jerry knew that, yet he chose to carry out this ridiculous charade. Even then she didn't completely blame him. She wasn't any better, opting to sleep in