Excerpt of Home for the Holidays by Arlene Hittle

Derrick stopped beside her and touched her forearm. “Cher, can we talk?”

“Now you want to talk? A few minutes ago, you were calling me ma’am.” Because it was easier that way, she pretended not to notice the heat his touch sent racing up her arm.

Despite her protest, she followed him away from the SUV and from her mother, who was no doubt straining to overhear.

“Come on, Cheryl. You don’t exactly look like yourself.” He grunted and waved, gesturing at the ridiculous outfit, from baseball cap to ugly winter boots that were two sizes too large.

Even though that had been the point, she found herself hurt and angry he hadn’t seen through the disguise. “You know me well enough.”

His eyebrows shot skyward. “After ten years? I don’t think so. A lot’s changed since then.”

“Well, excuse me for not peaking in high school.”

The smoldering fire in Derrick’s gray eyes set her soul ablaze, offsetting the chill in the crisp November air. “Sweetheart, you can trust me when I say I’ve improved with age.”

To distract herself from the flash of desire his comment sparked, she lowered her lids and tapped her inner smart- aleck. “You think so, huh? You’re not wine or cheese.”

That was a line of crap and she knew it. Even in the watery gray early morning light, he looked as good now as he had in high school. Better even, if she took into account the broader shoulders and more masculine presence.

He knew it, too, judging by his sly grin. Damn the man. Why couldn’t he have developed a paunch, or better yet, started balding?

A low, sexy laugh rumbled from deep in his throat. “Wine and cheese aren’t the only things that get better with age, Cher.”