“Oswald!” The shriek of his name accompanied a stinging burn on Oz’s cheek, and he was fairly certain the imprint of Selene’s lovely hand flared on his skin. Admiring the pink tinge of her cheeks, the fiery glare that made her hazel eyes glow, and slight quiver of her full bottom lip, he stepped in another few inches and smiled. “Oh, come on, Kitty-Kitty. It wasn’t that bad.” “You had no right to kiss me. None!” She pointed a finger of the offending hand into his face. “You are an unbelievably incorrigible, inappropriate, unacceptable clod.” “Aren’t you the one who hung the mistletoe?” Gently taking her warm hand in his, he turned her finger to point to the deep green sprig dangling from a red velvet bow above her head. As if on perfect cue a slight gasp escaped her mouth, and Oz counted the usual five seconds it took The Vampire Guard’s accountant to regain her composure. With practiced precision and in this exact order Selene’s back stiffened, her mouth closed, shoulders dropped, and her deliciously curved chin turned up before she slowly blinked, though did not make eye contact with the kissing clod standing inches from her. “That is neither here nor there.” Placing a hand on Ozzy’s chest she pushed him aside. “I just hung the damn thing not more than…” Her attention dropped to the step stool still positioned in the doorway, “…thirty seconds ago. How on earth could you possibly kiss me in that short time?” Oz plucked a berry from the sprig overhead, rolling the tiny white ball between his thumb and forefinger. “A man can do an awful lot in thirty seconds.” “Not with me he can’t.” She grabbed the stool and hammer and marched off.