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“What’s so bad about me?”

“Beau, you’ve been married three times. You’re a slick-talking, woman-loving son of a gun with a voice that’d melt stone. I’ve seen your kind before. Shoot, I’ve married your kind before. You’re safe with me.”

“The husband whose, um, grave you wanted to dance on? I remind you of him?”

“You could have given Eric lessons. At least you were smart enough to divorce one wife before you married another. Or am I assuming too much?”

Beau didn’t know whether to be fascinated or insulted by Nancy’s disclosure. “Your husband was a bigamist? Really?”

“Yes, really.”

No wonder she didn’t want another man in her life. It was a damn good thing he had no intention of acting on his attraction to her, because he wouldn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell with a woman like her.

Extending his hand, he said, “We should be safe as buddies, then. Deal?”

They shook. “Deal.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of their situation. This would be a first for him since puberty. A woman as a friend. Who’d have thought?

Home For Christmas

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