Chapter 5

Skye glancedat the door nervously, then chastised herself for even thinking he'd come. The few men she'd dated in her past steered clear of anything to do with her classroom or extracurricular activities. This included, but was not limited to, tricky trays, penny auctions, and recitals. But the number one event to avoid at all costs occurred once a year. Tonight.

The Christmas pageant.

A tiny part of her completely agreed it was almost masochistic for a man to actually attend when he had no children on the stage, but Skye believed this was a precursor to a good father. Also a great excuse to end a relationship that bordered on the line of boring. Like she'd done twice before.

Nope. Hunter probably talked a good game, but he'd never appear. He'd cite work, family emergency, or a hair washing, then maybe offer dinner at a later date. She couldn't even blame him. Heck, if she wasn't friends with Liz, there'd be no way she'd volunteer to corral sixty five-year-olds to put on some form of a decent production.

"Miss Summers, my wings broke!" Ava broke into tears and showed a torn wing. Skye grabbed the ever-present box of tissues and mopped up her face, then whipped out a safety pin.

"All fixed, sweetie. Now go with Mrs. Johnson, we're lining up."

She brushed the sweat from her forehead, grabbed two small stragglers, and urged them up to the stage. A shepherd's staff rammed into her head, and she tripped on a fallen angel's halo. Skye grit her teeth, fought past the pain, and got them all lined up in a halfcocked way.

Liz gave her a thumb's up signal. Skye looked around and quickly flashed her the finger.

Her best friend hooted with laughter, and Skye climbed down the stage to block the right corner. Her job now consisted of pulling off crying kids, whispering forgotten lines, and making sure no children made a break for it.

God, she needed a drink.

She turned the corner and rammed into a solid wall of carved muscle. Hard hands grabbed her upper arms and righted her. She opened her mouth to firmly chide the straggling father, but the words died on her lips.

Amber eyes speared hers. Thick dirty-blonde hair fell over his brow and she reached up without thinking to push it back. Her fingers tingled at the silky feel of the curl, and she yanked her hand back as if burned. He smiled down at her, took in her disheveled appearance, and God bless him, still looked interested. "Hi," he said. "Were you gonna yell at me?"

Skye grinned back. "Yep. What are you doing here?"

He frowned and looked adorably confused. "I'm sorry, didn't you invite me to the play?"

"Yeah. And you said you'd try to make it but that's always code for you had to cut your toenails tonight."

His eyes sparkled with humor. And heat. "Damn, that's sexy."

She pursed her lips and lowered her voice. "I got much more in my arsenal. Watch out." A tiny toddler waddled over, diaper hanging, and she scooped him up without blinking. "Ooops, a runaway. Where's mama?"

The toddler stuck a drooly hand and grasped a loose curl. "Eeeee!"

Skye sighed and wished for a wet wipe. Damn, that was sticky. His mother flashed in front of her and she handed him off without pause. "I can't believe you came," she said again. Skye blushed. God, she was lame. Now she sounded as if she was so desperately happy that a man showed up. Not cool. "I mean, it didn't matter, but I'm happy to see you."

"Didn't matter?"

Her blush deepened. "I mean?—"

Hunter reached out and grabbed the sticky curl. "I'm just teasing you Ms. Summers. I had such a good time the other night, I wanted the chance to check out your school. See you in action. As long as you promise not to yell at me again."

Giddiness skipped through her body. She actually believed him. Her gut screamed he wasn't coming to the play just to sleep with her, but that would've been fine too. Because she wanted to sleep with him. Eventually.

"Thanks," she said softly.

"Can I take you for something to eat afterward?"

Skye nodded. "Yes. On one condition."

"Name it."

"The restaurant must supply wine. I'm going to need it after this."

On cue, the auditorium darkened and the spotlight focused on the stage. Hunter bent toward her. The delicious scent of lemon and soap teased her nostrils.

"Done," he whispered in her ear. "I have one condition myself."

"I'm a flexible woman."

"Dessert must be included. Hopefully something chocolate."

In that moment, her heart melted. A man who loved sweets was at the top of her list in qualities needed in a mate. She nodded her assent, and turned toward the stage. As the children began to sing Silent Night, and the energy of love in the crowd pulled to her, Skye clasped her fingers within his and felt as if she was finally home.