Mistletoe Mischief (3 page)

Chapter Three

“Whoa—what the heck did you do?”

Eric’s voice rumbled in his chest against her back, but Marissa was too busy biting back a whimper of agony to enjoy the feel of the strong arms that’d caught her.

“My stupid heel wedged in the boards before, and I twisted my ankle when Heather almost went over the railing.”

And with that one single step just now, the throbbing pain she’d been trying to will away exploded into a thousand sharp knives stabbing at her ankle. Adrenaline had kept her oblivious until after she held Heather safe in her arms, and then, she’d hoped the pain would fade if she gave it a few minutes.

Obviously not.

“Mom? What’s the matter?”

Heather stood in front of them with an anxious expression. Marissa wiped the moisture from her eyes and gave her daughter a reassuring smile. “I hurt my ankle a little, but it’s okay, I’ll be fine.”

The knives had dulled slightly, receding enough to let the details of Eric’s hard, muscular body register on her consciousness. He helped her straighten, and her body slid up along his chest in the process. A wave of heat crashed over her.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

“As long as you don’t let go.” The moment the breathless words escaped, her cheeks flamed. She sounded as turned on as she suddenly felt. Their daughters stood three feet away, for heaven’s sake! Staring at their parents with big, round eyes.

“I won’t let go,” Eric promised. “Take a couple slow, deep breaths and I’ll carry you to that bench down there.”

Marissa focused her gaze toward the bottom of the steps.
Thank God.
He thought her breathlessness stemmed from the pain. A few moments ago,
yes
. Now?
Not so much
. And no way she’d let him carry her.

“I can walk.”

“It’ll be easier if—”

The zoo employee who’d checked on Heather earlier had noticed their group again. “Is everything okay?” the young man asked. “Should I call for the medical cart?”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Eric said. “Thanks.”

“I’ll walk,” Marissa insisted when the employee lifted his walkie-talkie.

“Fine, you walk,” Eric relented. But then he still nodded to the employee to make the call before stooping slightly to fit his shoulder under hers. His arm curved around her waist for support. “Let’s go. Girls, wait for us at the bottom.”

With his help, Marissa hobbled toward the stairs. She didn’t know which was worse, her unsteady balance in the strappy sandals, or the riot of sensations radiating from his large hand spanning her waist. In an attempt to gain some equilibrium, she put weight on her right foot again. Pain attacked with a vengeance and she sucked her breath through her teeth.

A low growl of annoyance sounded deep in Eric’s throat. “I need to look at your ankle sooner rather than later, and at the rate we’re going, it’ll take you a half hour to get down the stairs. Now hang on.”

He scooped her into his arms, leaving her no option but to cling to his neck. At five feet seven inches without shoes, she must weigh three times what his daughter did, yet he strode down the platform steps as if she were as light as his six year old daughter.

“What possessed you to wear heels to the zoo anyway?” he muttered.

She stiffened in his arms. “I’ll give you two guesses. One, I’m an airhead who enjoys people looking at her like she’s an idiot. Or two, I was supposed to work today, ran late and missed the bus at school, drove Heather here to meet her class where Patti begged me to help because three of her chaperones didn’t show up and after one look at my daughter’s face, I knew I couldn’t disappoint her.” She took a much-needed breath of air. “So I stayed in my stupid high heels.”

He’d descended the stairs and stood by the bench by now, but made no move to set her down. A slight frown creased his tanned brow.

Marissa lifted her eyebrows when his guilty gray gaze met hers. “Any other questions?”

“No.”

He set her on the bench before kneeling at her feet. His deft fingers made short work of unfastening her sandal strap. He eased it off her foot, and she reached to take the shoe, ridiculously glad she’d splurged on a pedicure two days ago.

“Your ankle is swelling already,” he noted, resting her bare foot on his camouflaged thigh. His work-worn hands were gentle and warm against her sensitive skin. A shiver raced along her spine at the sensual sensations his touch sparked. What did he do for a living to put those calluses on his hands?

His darkened gaze rose to hers. “This is going to hurt, and I’m sorry, but I have to feel for any obvious breaks. Ready?”

She nodded, a little nervous, yet at the same time, impressed by the calm confidence in his voice. Heather scooted onto the bench next to her on one side, and Reese took the other. Like curious little kittens, both of them watched every move Eric made.

Marissa did her best to endure the prodding without complaint, but couldn’t control a couple of flinches and a swift reflexive jerk at one particular sharp stab of pain. Heather took hold of her hand, and Marissa smiled down at her through gritted teeth.

“You seem to know what you’re doing,” she said to Eric in an effort to distract herself.

“Daddy’s a Pear Medic,” Reese announced.

“Par-
a
-medic,” Eric corrected without shifting his attention from his work. “I spent six years as a field medic in the Army, and now I’m a volunteer First Responder.”

Ah ha. That explained his take-charge attitude, his determination to keep going after yet another gasp from her,
and
his hair. She’d thought it was a little long for him to be active-duty military.
That’s right, focus on something other than the pain.
She stared at his bent head. Were those waves as soft and thick as they appeared?

Bet his wife wouldn’t appreciate her finding out any more than she had when Ted ran around. Marissa readjusted her gaze and refused to let it wander from the watch on his wrist.

“What’s a first reponderer?” Heather asked.

This time, Eric glanced up. “Responder. I help people who are hurt until the paramedics arrive to take them to the hospital.”

Finally, he rested her foot on his leg again. “I don’t think it’s broken, but we’ll need to get you to the ER for an X-ray to be sure. There could be a hairline fracture that I can’t feel.”

Heather clutched her hand in a death grip, lifting wide, frightened eyes to Marissa. “You have to go to the hospital?”

Marissa quickly shook her head. “Of course not, honey. Eric said it’s not broken.”

“You really need—”

She shot Eric a quelling look before catching sight of the summer school director over by the lion exhibit. “Oh, look, girls, there’s Miss Patti. Could you go get her for me, please?” The moment they were out of earshot, Marissa turned back to Eric.

“You need an X-ray,” he insisted before she could speak.

“I know,” she agreed quietly. “But my ex’s mother passed away last fall, and ever since then Heather’s been afraid of hospitals. I’ll go, but not with her. I can maybe see if Ted could take her tonight, or figure out something tomorrow.”

The chances of Ted being available
and
willing to help were slim to none, so she considered her options for Saturday.

“You can’t wait until tomorrow,” Eric said with a frown.

Marissa bit back her argument when Patti, her three charges, and Heather and Reese arrived. “Good to see you made it, Eric,” Patti said.

“Yeah, I’m sorry I missed the bus this morning, but better late than never…I think.”

When he glanced up at Marissa with a crooked smirk, she knew he was referring to her little shoe tirade a few minutes ago. She couldn’t help a small smile in return. The man was much too handsome and boyishly charming for his own good, and she never had been very good at holding a grudge—especially with him being so nice about her ankle. The warmth tingling up her leg from the touch of his hands on her foot melted her resistance even more.

A wimpy beep broke their moment of connection. She turned to see a golf cart had pulled up to the bench, candy cane striped with holly boughs strung across the front. When the driver stepped onto the pavement, Marissa covered her mouth to smother a laugh of disbelief. She may not care for all the Christmas stuff in the middle of summer, but this was priceless. The kids giggled without reservation.

“
Ho, ho, ho
. One of my helpers told me someone’s lookin’ fer a ride over here.”

Santa stood before them, unlike any St. Nick Marissa had ever seen. He wore his white-ball topped hat, had the required wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, a long, white beard and rosy cheeks, and a big ol’ belly…but that’s where the similarities ended.

“Daddy, where’s Santa’s pants?” Reese whispered loud enough for everyone to hear.

Indeed, Santa’s pants and white trimmed red jacket were hilariously absent. In their place, red suspenders bulged over a white T-shirt, holding up a pair of cherry-red shorts. Matching red flip-flops completed the outrageous outfit.

Santa waggled his bushy white eyebrows at the kids. “It may be Christmas in July, but this here ain’t the North Pole, you know. I should get a vacation, too, don’t you think?” After they nodded their agreement, he turned to Eric and Marissa. “How ken I help?”

“A ride to the first aid office would be great,” Eric said, gently setting aside Marissa’s foot before rising to his feet.

“I’ll take Heather and Reese with us to the South picnic area,” Patti offered before Marissa could even ask.

Marissa hugged Heather, who’d come back to stand next to her with a worried expression. “We should be back in time for the reindeer wagon rides. Until then, you be really good for Miss Patti, okay?”

“I will,” Heather promised solemnly. Reese nodded as well.

Patti smiled. “The two of them are always good. And I’ll make sure to save you each a plate for lunch.”

With everything arranged, Eric helped Marissa into the cart after she removed her other sandal and stuffed the shoes into her bag. Walking through the park with both heels had been hard enough, doing it with one shoe and a sprained ankle proved impossible.

Eric sat next to her and lifted her injured foot to rest across his leg. Marissa groaned silently at the sensations his touch sparked, feeling like a jerk for wanting what she couldn’t have. To make things worse, she’d been right about him being as hard as he looked. Besides already having been caught against his firm chest and carried in his arms, now she could feel the solid muscle of his thigh beneath her calf. Another shiver shimmied along her spine when he left one warm hand resting on her shin and the other cradled her bare heel.

Maybe going off with him, without the girls, wasn’t such a good idea. They seemed to be the only thing keeping her inappropriate attraction in check.

She reminded herself yet again, married men were always off-limits.
Always
.

“How’re you doing?” Eric asked. “Is the pain still really bad?”

“It’s okay,” she answered honestly.

As Santa climbed into the driver’s seat, Reese stepped up to the cart with a wide grin and tapped on her father’s arm. At her insistence, Eric leaned down so she could whisper in his ear, but Marissa heard Reese’s statement so clearly the little imp could’ve shouted the words.

“Daddy, you’re under the mistletoe.”

Chapter Four

Eric bit back a grin at his daughter’s keen observation. He glanced up at a sprig of leaves and holly berries attached to the roof of the cart, then dropped his gaze to Marissa’s. “So we are,” he murmured.

Her face flushed, but he couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment, or anticipation of a kiss. He knew the reason
his
pulse raced like an out of control locomotive.

“You have to kiss her,” Reese stated.

God Bless you, Reese.

Santa laid his arm across the back of the front passenger seat and craned his head around, his brown eyes twinkling. “’Tis tradition.”

“It’s the
rule
,” Reese argued, frowning at Santa before turning back to Eric. “You say so every Christmas when we stand in the doorway at Grandma’s.”

“I do, don’t I?”
 

Reese nodded emphatically. “Every year.”

Eric faced Marissa and sighed with exaggerated reluctance. “I might’ve been able to buck tradition, but a rule’s a rule.”

He wondered what she’d do, especially considering the pressure of everyone watching. She cast a quick glance around at their audience, and then lowered that lovely blue gaze of hers to her lap. Despite the spitfire attitude he’d witnessed all morning, her hesitation hinted at a shy side, captivating him even more.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said quietly. “But I can’t help wondering what your wife would think of this.”

Her disapproving words took him by surprise.
So much for shy
.

Then he considered her response. She thought he was still married? Talk about unexpected. Relief followed pretty fast when it dawned on him that maybe this was the reason she’d given his flirting the cold shoulder. He respected that she would honor the vows of marriage, even if it weren’t her own.