Читать книгу Unexpected Angel - Kate Hoffmann - Страница 13

“SHE’S A PRETTY LITTLE thing. And don’t tell me you haven’t noticed. Every time I turn around, you’re touchin’ her or starin’ at her. Last night at supper you almost tripped all over yourself helping to clear the table. You never do that when I cook.”

“Maybe if you cooked as good as she does, I would,” Alex murmured, not loud enough to reach his father two stalls away. He turned his focus back to the dandy brush he was smoothing over the coat of his favorite mare, Opal. Never mind that he’d been brushing the same spot for nearly ten minutes, caught up in an idle contemplation of the beautiful woman who’d suddenly barged into his home and his life.

How many times that day had he been tempted to wander back to the house, to casually search for a hot cup of coffee or quick snack with the real purpose of seeing her again? According to Jed, she’d spent the entire day yesterday with a tape measure and notepad in hand, scribbling down ideas. And when Jed had begun dinner preparations, she’d swooped down and changed his menu plan, whipping up a deliciously rich Beef Stroganoff to replace the pan-fried steaks his father usually managed to blacken.

That morning at breakfast, she’d blithely prepared another stunning culinary event of scrambled eggs, bacon and homemade biscuits. He’d given her the keys to the truck, expecting her to go right out and buy herself a decent pair of boots—and the ingredients for a gourmet supper that evening. But careful observation of the garage proved that she hadn’t left the house at all.

“You don’t have to act like you’re not listening,” Jed muttered, now leaning up against the stall gate. “I’ve seen the way you look at her.”

“And how’s that?” Alex asked, unable to ignore the bait.

“Like maybe not every woman in the world is trouble?” his father replied. “Like maybe it’s about time to put your problems with Renee in the past?”

Alex bit back a harsh laugh. He’d never put his problems with Renee in the past. Every day he was reminded that he’d failed at marriage and that his son was suffering for that failure. “I made a stupid decision marrying Renee. Hell, we only knew each other for a few months before I asked her to marry me.”

“That’s the way it always has been for Marrin men,” his father said. “We meet the woman of our dreams and it’s love at first sight.”

“She wasn’t the woman of my dreams,” Alex muttered. “And neither is Holly Bennett. I won’t be making the same mistake twice.”

“I don’t know. This one’s different,” Jed said. “She didn’t screech and holler when she ended up backside down in a pile of steaming horse apples. Takes a special kind of woman to maintain her composure in the presence of manure.”

“She’s a city girl. All manners and sophistication. My guess is she can handle herself no matter what might come along.”

“Your guess?” Jed scoffed. “It wouldn’t hurt you to get to know her. That little girl is working her tail off for your son. She’s up at the house right now scurrying around like a squirrel in a nut factory. I’ve never seen a body get so worked up over Christmas cookies. She’s sent me to the store twice today to fetch her ingredients. Says we’re havin’ cocoa van for dinner. I figure that’s some kind of fancy chocolate dessert shaped like a truck.”

“Coq au vin,” Alex corrected. “Chicken in wine sauce.” His stomach growled in response and he realized that he hadn’t bothered with lunch that day.

“Oh, yeah? Well, that’s even better.”

“It would do you well to remember that you’ve got work in the barn,” Alex said, tossing the dandy brush into the bucket as he grabbed the handle. “Your job doesn’t include fetching for her. She can drive herself to the store.”

She could do a whole lot more than drive, Alex mused. His thoughts drifted back to that first morning, when he’d carried her in his arms and kissed her bandaged finger. Though the gesture had been instinctive, his reaction hadn’t been. In truth, he’d wanted to draw her into his embrace and cover her mouth with his, to see if the taste of a woman was still as powerful as he remembered.

Alex cursed softly. So he’d been a long time without feminine companionship. Hell, it went deeper than that. In his whole life he’d only had a handful of women. He’d met Renee nine years ago, when they were twenty. He’d asked her to marry him three months later. Not much time for sowing wild oats, Alex mused. Maybe that’s why he found himself so attracted to Holly. She was a confident and sophisticated woman, she was beautiful, and she was in close proximity. He dropped the bucket on the concrete floor with a clatter. And that’s exactly how it had all started with the fickle Renee.

He stepped out of the stall to find his father leaning against a post, a piece of timothy clenched in his teeth, his gaze fixed on Alex. “Don’t ruin this for Eric,” Jed warned. “Be nice to her or stay away. There’s no middle ground here.”

Alex shook his head, then stalked to the door, the faint sound of Jed’s chuckle echoing through the silent barn. Of course, he’d be nice! He wasn’t some rube from upstate New York, some farm boy lacking in manners. He could certainly maintain a cordial relationship with Holly Bennett—and without lapsing into sexual longing every few minutes!

He wasn’t prepared for the assault on his senses when he walked in the door. Christmas carols piped cheerily from the stereo in the family room, filling the house with music. The scent of baking was thick in the air and he followed his nose into the kitchen. She’d started a fire in the family room fireplace and the wood snapped and popped. But it was the kitchen that stopped him short.

Every surface, from countertop to table to the top of the refrigerator, was covered with neat rows of cookies, arranged in military precision, each regiment a different variety. Holly, humming along with “Silver Bells,” popped up from in front of the oven, a cookie pan in her hand. She froze at the sight of him, their gazes locking for a brief moment, before she smiled and set the pan down. “Hi,” she murmured.

“What’s all this?” Alex asked.

“I’ve just been doing a little baking. I had your father run to the store for some staples—flour, butter, eggs, chocolate.”

Alex’s brow quirked up, amused by her penchant for understatement. “A little baking? We could keep a small third world country in cookies for a year.”

Holly glanced around the room, as if she’d just realized how many cookies she’d baked. “Right. I—I guess I did get a little carried away. But you have to have variety. One or two different cookies on a plate doesn’t look nearly as festive as ten or twelve. Here, let me show you.”

She snatched a plate from the cupboard and artfully arranged a selection of cookies. Then she ladled a fragrant liquid from the battered crockpot into a mug and dropped in a cinnamon stick. “Mulled cider,” she said. She placed the plate of cookies and the mug in front of him, then crossed her arms. “Go ahead. Try it. The cider is a perfect accompaniment for the butter cookies.”

She watched him intently and he slowly reached for a cookie.

“No!” she cried.

Alex pulled his fingers away. “No?”

“Try that one first,” Holly said. “And then that one. The pecan shortbread is an acquired taste. More of a tea cookie. Not as sweet as the others.”

He took a butter cookie filled with jam and coated with toasted coconut, then popped it into his mouth. He was prepared to offer lavish compliments, knowing that Holly would be shattered if he just swallowed it and nodded in approval. But Alex stifled a soft moan as the impossibly fresh cookie simply melted on his tongue. He had to admit that he’d never tasted anything quite so good. Cheap store-bought cookies had been the norm in the Marrin household for years and since no one bothered to close the bag, they were usually stale after the first day.

“I’m going to make some gift boxes for them,” she said, turning back to the pan of cookies on the stove. “Eric and I can use some Christmas ink stamps to decorate them and then we’ll line them with cellophane and gold foil and tie them with a pretty ribbon and—”

“Why?” Alex asked, surreptitiously snatching a handful of cookies and dropping them into his jacket pocket. “You could have bought cookies. It wouldn’t have made any difference to us.”

“That’s not the point,” Holly said, clearly stunned by his obtuse views on the matter. “You can’t give friends and relatives store-bought cookies! It’s—it’s just not done.”

“Wait a second. We’re giving all these cookies away?” He grabbed two more handfuls and managed to hide them in his pockets before she turned around.

“With all the friends and relatives that stop by over the—”

Alex cleared his throat, after downing another cookie. “Ah, there won’t be any friends,” he said, his mouth full. “No relatives, either.”

“You don’t have any company? But it’s Christmas!” Holly cried. “Everyone has company at Christmas!”

He shrugged. “We live a pretty quiet life here.”

“But—but—what are we going to do with all these cookies?” She studied the countertop, then smiled. “What about the feed store? And Eric’s teachers? And his bus driver?”

He grinned, then snatched up another handful of the pretty little butter cookies with jam in the center. “And we can have cookies for supper. And they’re great for breakfast. And lunch. For a guy who usually eats toast two out of three meals, cookies are like gourmet fare.”

“Speaking of dinner,” Holly said. “I was hoping to take Eric out shopping tonight after we eat. We need to buy decorations for the house. I thought we’d start at Dalton’s and look for Christmas tree ornaments. Would that be all right?”

Alex circled the counter, examining another variety of cookie. Holly watched him, her wavy hair tumbled around her face, streaks of flour caught in the strands and smudged on her cheeks. He stood next to her and looked down into her eyes. Lord, she was pretty. “As long as he finishes his homework, he can go,” Alex murmured, his gaze skimming over her features.

“I—I used to make these cookies with my mother,” Holly explained, turning back to her work. “Every Christmas. I know all these recipes by heart.” She picked up a frosted Christmas tree and took a delicate bite. “The taste brings back so many memories.” A wistful look crossed her face. “It’s funny the things you remember from childhood. ”

Alex sighed. “Maybe that’s why Eric wrote the letter. He’s looking for a few memories.” He drew a deep breath. “I should thank you,” he said.

She glanced up, her eyes questioning. “For what?”

“For all this. For taking the time.” He reached out and gently wiped the smudge of flour from her face, letting his thumb brush across her silken skin. But he couldn’t bring himself to break the contact, an undeniable attraction drawing them ever closer. Alex bent near, wanting, needing to kiss her.

“Holy cow! Look at this!”

Alex jumped back, startled by the sound of his son’s voice. Nervously he raked his hand through his hair, then forced a smile. He expected Eric to be staring at them both, wondering why his father had been contemplating kissing the Christmas angel. But his son’s attention had been captured by the cookies. Kenny stood at his side, his own eyes wide with anticipation.

Alex glanced back at Holly and found the color high in her cheeks. Had his son not come in at that very moment, he knew he would have swept her into his arms. How would he have explained such a sight to Eric? Good grief, the last thing he wanted to do was confuse Eric with adult matters. Holly Bennett was here for only two weeks. He had no intention of making her a permanent fixture at Stony Creek Farm.

“I need to get back to the barn,” he murmured, grabbing his mug of cider. He circled around the counter, then ruffled Eric’s hair. “Holly is going to take you shopping tonight, Scout. You can go as soon as you get your homework done.”

“Wait!” Holly cried. “You can’t leave yet. We need to discuss all my plans.”

“Dad!” Eric groaned. “You have to discuss her plans!”

“With just two weeks, we’ll have to adhere to a strict schedule,” Holly began. “And I’ll need you to approve my ideas for the interior and exteriors. And as I said before, I’ve decided to use a rustic theme, which is something I’ve—”

“I’m sure anything you suggest will be fine,” Alex said. “If Eric likes it, I will, too.”

He hurried out, anxious to put some space between them. The door clicked shut behind him and he started back toward the barn, ready for a few more hours of hard work. But halfway there, he found himself craving another cookie. He reached in his pocket and found a pretty checkerboard cookie, then popped it into his mouth. But it didn’t satisfy him. Alex raked his fingers through his hair. Maybe it was the baker and not the baked goods he was really craving. Unfortunately that was a craving he’d have to learn to ignore.

HOLLY STARED OUT the frosty window of the pickup truck as it bumped along the road leading to downtown Schuyler Falls. Snowflakes, caught in the headlights, danced on the road in front of them. On her right, Eric sat, his eyes wide with excitement, his little body squirming against the seat belt. She’d never met a child quite so sweet and kind as Eric Marrin. His enthusiasm for the season seemed to spill over on to her, making her look forward to every minute leading up to Christmas Eve.

She risked a glance to her left, at Alex, who sat behind the wheel of the truck, silent, stoic, his strong, capable hands wrapped around the wheel, keeping the truck safe on the slick road. Holly hadn’t planned to invite Alex along. After their encounter in the kitchen that afternoon, any contact with him was fraught with peril. Instead of thinking about cookie recipes and menu plans, she always seemed to lapse into a contemplation of Alex’s broad shoulders or his stunning features or his long, muscular legs. Or his lips, those hard, chiseled, tempting lips. Even now, she couldn’t help but sneak a few long looks at him under cover of the dim interior of the truck.

She shouldn’t have invited him, but once she learned the truck didn’t have an automatic transmission, she’d had no choice. He’d agreed grudgingly, grumbling that he’d never finish all his work in the barn after an evening wasted with shopping. But she knew enough to require only a ride to and from Dalton’s. Taking a man—especially a man as stubborn and moody as Alex—through the front doors of a department store could be a disaster of biblical proportions. Men just didn’t appreciate the sheer joy of a good retail experience.

“How about some music?” Holly suggested, reaching over to flip on the radio. A blare of Aerosmith split the air behind her head and she jumped, pressing her hand to her chest. A tiny smile quirked the corners of his mouth at her reaction. She quickly found some Christmas music and, before long, she was humming softly along with Miss Piggy and the Muppets in a rousing rendition of “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Both Eric and Alex stared at her as if she’d suddenly gone mad.

“You know, in times past, Christmas was celebrated over a twelve-day period,” Holly said. “This Christmas carol is nearly three hundred years old and it’s steeped in tradition. Back then, people gave gifts on each of the twelve days.”

“You don’t say,” Alex muttered.

“Twelve days of gifts?” Eric gasped.

“I’ve been thinking of decorating the living room with a Twelve Days’ theme.” She stole a glance at Alex, hoping that he’d offer at least one opinion on her decorating ideas. Was he completely bereft of Christmas spirit? And good taste?

“Can we get reindeer?” Eric asked. “Big plastic reindeer with lights inside like Kenny has at his house? Dad, you could put them up on the roof.”

Holly winced inwardly. Reindeer were fine for shopping malls but a bit too tacky for such a pretty setting as Stony Creek Farm. “Perhaps we could find something a little less—”

“Now there’s an idea I like,” Alex said, barely able to suppress a teasing grin. “The more stuff on the roof, the better. And we’ve got all that space on the lawn, too. And along the driveway and around the barns. We could make it look just like…Vegas in the Adirondacks!”

“Yeah!” Eric cried. “Just like Vegas!” He leaned over to look at his father. “What’s Vegas?”

“It’s a place where bad Christmas decorators go to die,” Holly said, shooting Alex an impatient glare. She turned to Eric. “I don’t think we’re going to find plastic reindeer at Dalton’s.”

“Dalton’s has everything,” Eric said. “Raymond has lights on his tree that look like bugs! You get lots of ’em and it looks like the tree is crawlin’ with bugs. His mom got them at Dalton’s. Can we get some of those lights?”

Holly swallowed hard. “Bugs?”

“Oh, I think a bug tree would be perfect,” Alex said. “How does the song go? Twelve crickets chirping, eleven spiders crawling, ten worms a-wiggling.”

Holly glanced over at him and caught him staring at her, his eyes bright, his jaw twitching with humor. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with my plans.” Their gazes locked for a moment and Holly felt her breath catch in her throat. Though at first his expression seemed benign, when she looked into his eyes she saw something there, intense, magnetic, almost predatory. She quickly looked away, hoping that he couldn’t see the flush heating her cheeks.

“Eric wants the bugs,” he said with a grin.

He really was a handsome man when he smiled. Strong and vital, and oh-so sexy. At times so serious and then downright silly. What woman in her right mind would choose to leave a man like Alex Marrin?

“I can work with bugs,” she murmured, outvoted two to one. “I’m flexible.” Though Holly preferred to do things her own way to insure that everything fit in with an overall theme, she’d done a few bizarre themes in the past. A trout fishing tree for a dyed-in-the-wool sportsman and a tree decorated with little plastic internal organs for a doctor’s home. She gnawed on her lower lip. Horses probably had bugs of some sort, horse cooties. She could work it in.

As she mulled over her plans, her gaze dropped to her leg, to the spot where it pressed against Alex’s thigh in the cramped confines of the truck. Even through her coat, she could feel his warmth, warmth that slowly seeped through her bloodstream until the chill had been banished from her fingers and toes. How easy it would be to reach over and run her palm along the faded fabric of his jeans, to feel the hard muscle and warm flesh beneath. To let it slide higher and higher until—

She gulped convulsively. “We’ll have to have two trees,” Holly said. “A very nice formal tree in the living room and a…a bug tree in the family room. And the library could use a tree, too.”

“Cool,” Eric said. “We never had three trees before! Santa’s gonna love our house.”

Holly turned to Alex but his gaze was fixed on the street ahead. The pretty homes had given way to businesses as they approached the town square. A few minutes later, the truck pulled up in front of Dalton’s Department Store. “I’ll pick you up in three hours,” Alex said. He reached behind Holly and gave Eric’s head a tousle. “Be good for Miss Bennett, Scout. Stay right with her and don’t wander off.”

He turned his attention to Holly and she wondered when he’d remove his arm from around her shoulders. He was so close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cold cheek. She let her head tip back slightly, amazed at how perfectly her nape felt in the crook of his arm. “Maybe you could buy some new clothes,” he suggested. “And a sturdy pair of boots while you’re at it.”

He pulled his arm out from around her shoulders. Holly forced a smile, then slid across the seat and hopped out of the truck right after Eric. Before she could say another word to Alex, Eric grabbed her hand and dragged her to the wide glass windows, pushing through the crowds that had gathered there.

“Look at the trains!” he cried, pressing his face against the glass like the rest of the kids lining the windows. He drew her to the next window. “And these bears play in a band! See how they move?”

As Eric pulled her to the next window, she glanced over her shoulder and found Alex watching them. He’d stepped out of the truck and now stood with his arms braced on the hood, his gaze following them both. From this distance, she couldn’t read his expression, only that he wasn’t smiling. For such a seemingly unaffected man, he was endlessly complicated, his mood shifting in the blink of an eye.

When she looked for him again a moment later, the truck was gone and Holly felt strangely disappointed. It had been so long since a man had looked at her with anything more than mild interest. And so long since she’d even bothered to care. With a soft laugh, she pulled Eric away from the windows. “Come on, we have shopping to do!”

They hurried through the revolving door, then stopped inside the grand entryway of Dalton’s. Holly felt as if she’d been instantly transported back in time. This was the way shopping used to be, with smiling salesclerks who called you by name and uniformed doormen who welcomed you with a nod. The terrazzo floors shone and the smell of lemon oil drifted off the rich mahogany paneling.

As they strolled past the perfume counter, she noticed the huge Christmas tree set in the center of the store. Slowly her eyes rose, higher and higher, up through a soaring atrium three stories high. Above her, shoppers rested along the railings, staring out at the twinkling lights and shiny ornaments. A tiny thrill raced through her and, for a moment, she felt like a young girl again, full of the excitement of the season.

“It’s magical,” Holly murmured. “And a real tree. I wonder how they got it in here?”

“They always have a big tree.” Eric pulled her along toward the escalator. “First, we have to go see Santa. Then we can look at the tree.”

“I thought you already talked to Santa,” Holly said, hurrying to match his pace.

“I have to thank him,” Eric said.

“For what?”

“For you!”

Holly’s heart warmed at his innocent compliment. She’d only been a Christmas angel for a few days, but she already knew it was the best job she’d ever had. Devoting herself to the happiness of a sweet boy like Eric Marrin could hardly be called work.

They stepped onto the old escalator and ascended to the second floor, then joined the long line of children waiting at the gate to a cute little gingerbread village. The place was lined with aisles of toys, but Eric didn’t even notice, his gaze fixed squarely on the entrance to Santa’s kingdom.

As they waited, Holly was reminded of her childhood, how resolute she’d been in her own belief in Santa, and how she had challenged anyone who told her differently. Here, with Eric’s hand clutching hers, she could almost believe again in the pure magic of Christmas, and the warmth and security of a family to share it with.

“Hey, kid! What are you doing back here?”

They both turned to see one of Santa’s elves approaching—Twinkie, by her name tag. Holly felt Eric’s hand squeeze hers a little tighter. “Hi, Twinkie! Look what I brought. It’s my Christmas angel.”

The elf stared down at Eric, her hands braced on her hips. “Your what?”

“My angel. Her name is Holly and Santa sent her to me. She’s going to make my Christmas perfect. I came back here to thank him.”

The elf’s gaze rose to Holly’s face and she stared at her shrewdly, her pretty features pensive, curious. A bit too curious for Holly’s liking. “Santa sent you?” she asked. “That’s not true, is it?”

Holly glanced over her shoulder, uneasy with the elf’s sudden interest in private matters. “I—I’m really not at liberty to say,” she replied. “Come on, Eric, we’ll come back a little later and thank Santa. We’ve got a lot of shopping to do.” She tugged on his hand and led him away.

“Wait,” the elf cried, weaving through the waiting crowd. “I just have a few questions to ask.”

They lost the elf somewhere in bed linens, crouching behind a pile of down comforters to conceal themselves and holding their breaths as Twinkie’s jingling elf boots passed by. When Holly was sure they were safe, she pulled Eric to his feet. “Maybe it would be best if we didn’t tell anyone else about your Christmas angel,” she suggested.

“Why?”

Holly scrambled to come up with a logical reason. “Because we wouldn’t want all the other kids to ask for their own angels. There are just so many angels to go around and we wouldn’t want anyone to be disappointed.”

Eric nodded solemnly. “Yes. Maybe that would be best.”

As they searched out the tree trimming department, Holly glanced down at Eric and smoothed his mussed hair. He looked up at her and smiled, his whole face radiating joy. How different he was from his father, Holly mused. While Eric Marrin wore his emotions on his sleeve, his father hid them behind a stony face. While Eric was friendly and outgoing, Alex Marrin was aloof and indifferent.

She sighed softly. She’d stepped into the lives of these two males intending to do her job and make her $15,000. But this was more than a job. It was a chance to make a real difference in Eric’s life, to give him something that he’d been missing. If the contract were canceled tomorrow, Holly knew she’d never be able to abandon the job. She was already falling under the spell of the little boy’s charm.

She drew a steadying breath. Now, if she could only avoid doing the same with his father.

A FRESH DUSTING OF SNOW had fallen that morning and, in the waning light of day, it sparkled like tiny diamonds. Alex drew a deep breath of the cold afternoon air. As he looked out over the rolling land, the thick trees and wide meadows, he smiled. This was his land, his future—and the future of his son. Nothing could tear him away from this place. Not even a woman.

Renee had tried to draw him away, to force him into her life in New York City. But when he’d insisted they come back to Stony Creek when she got pregnant, she’d had no choice but to agree. From the day she set foot on the farm, he knew she didn’t belong. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise when she left six years later, but it did.

He glanced back at Holly, who trudged through the snow in his footsteps, Eric at her side. The two of them, bundled against the cold, held hands, Eric staring up at Holly as if she really were an angel sent from above. But to Alex, she’d become a siren sent by the devil himself, sent to torment and tempt him with her beauty and her allure. She didn’t belong here, either. Even dressed in insulated boots and a thick wool field jacket, she still looked like a city girl.

He vowed to maintain his distance from her again and again, but at every turn, she was there, asking him questions, seeking out his help. He’d had his resolve sorely tested trying not to touch her while he drove them back from their shopping spree at Dalton’s last night. And when she thanked him for carrying her parcels into the house, he’d fought an overwhelming urge to bend a little nearer and kiss her. Even this morning at breakfast, he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off of her, preoccupied with a covert inventory of her pretty features.

And now, even with the cold air and the bright sunshine, he wanted to pull her into his arms and tumble into the snow. Instead he was forced to focus on the task at hand—finding three suitable Christmas trees for the house. He stopped to stare up at a twelve-foot balsam pine, then waited for Holly and Eric to catch up.

“How about this one?” he asked.

Holly’s gaze skimmed over the height and width of the tree, then she slowly circled it, taking in its every detail. She’d already rejected the past forty-seven trees he’d shown her and if she rejected another, he’d be hard-pressed not to toss her in the nearest snowbank and continue the search without her.

“I don’t know,” Holly said. “It seems a little bare on the other side. And it’s really not very thick.” She sighed. “It would be much more efficient if we just went to a tree lot and bought three trees. We just don’t have the time to search.”

Alex ground his teeth as he attempted to bite back a sarcastic retort. This is precisely why he didn’t shop with women. Whether they were looking for something as complex as panty hose or something as simple as a damn Christmas tree, they always had to turn it into a major production. “We’ll put the bare spot against the wall,” he said. “No one will know it’s there.”

“I’ll know,” Holly said. “And it won’t be perfect.”

“Nothing I show you is going to be perfect,” Alex replied. “It’s not supposed to be perfect. The reason we’re cutting our own tree is that we always cut our own tree. It’s family tradition.”

“You don’t have to get mad,” Holly shouted. “I’ll find a tree. It will just take time. Sometimes my father and I would search for days for just the perfect tree.”

Alex stopped and slowly turned to Holly. “Days? We’ve been out here four hours and that’s three hours longer than you deserve. It’s getting dark, you’ve seen hundreds of trees. Balsam, white pine, Scotch pine. Ten-feet tall, twelve-feet tall, thick and thin, short needles, long needles. Just tell me what you want!”

“I want something special,” Holly said. She crossed her arms over her breasts and stared at him, her nose rosy, her eyes bright. “Perfect.”

“Perfect. The only perfect thing you’re going to find in this woods is a perfect lunatic with a perfectly honed ax and a perfectly sharpened saw, and a perfectly reasonable reason to murder you if you don’t pick out a tree right now!”

She gave him a haughty look, refusing to back down. “If you’re going to be so belligerent, why don’t you just go back to the house?”

“Belligerent?” Alex asked. “You think this is belligerent?” He reached down and picked up a handful of snow, packing it with his gloved hands.

Holly held out her hand to warn him off. “Don’t even think of throwing that at me.”

Alex ignored the warning, taking her words as a challenge. When he refused to put the snowball down, Holly scrambled to make her own ammunition, enlisting Eric’s help. Alex released a tightly held breath. Though he’d derive great pleasure in giving her a faceful of snow, it wasn’t going to get them out of the woods any faster. “All right,” he said, tossing his snowball aside. “Truce. But you’ve got thirty minutes to find a decent trio of trees or I’m going to leave you out here to freeze.”

“Hey, Dad, you’re a poet and you don’t even know it!”

Alex turned on his heel and started down the trail once again. But the shock of cold snow on his bare neck stopped him short. With a low growl, he slowly faced them. They both looked guilty as sin, satisfied smiles pasted on their rosy-cheeked faces. He raised his brow at Eric and his son tipped his head toward Holly.

In one smooth motion, he scooped up a handful of snow, packed it tight and took a step toward her. He was about to show her exactly who wore the pants around Stony Creek Farm. Holly let out a tiny shriek, then spun around and headed for the safety of a small tree.

Eric grabbed up a snowball and threw it at Alex, hitting him on the thigh. Alex scowled at his son. “So that’s the way it is. You’re going to side with the girl?”

“She’s my angel and I have to protect her.” He thumped his chest with his fist. “And this is war!” Eric let out a piercing battle cry, then scampered over to Holly’s hiding place.

A full-scale battle erupted with Alex taking the brunt of the assault. He tore through the trees, looking for Holly only to get ambushed by another snowball from Eric. And when he took off after Eric, Holly would come to the boy’s rescue with a barrage of snowballs meant to lay him low.

Breathless and wet with water running down his neck and settling near the small of his back, Alex decided to employ a new strategy—stealth. He gathered up a handful of snow and tiptoed through the trees, stopping to listen every few seconds. His efforts paid off, for a few moments later, he came up behind Holly.

Slowly he crept toward her as she peered out from behind a squat little fir tree. At the last minute, she heard him and, with a loud yell, Alex grabbed her from behind and playfully wrestled her down into the snow. He caught her wrists in one hand and pinned them above her head. She didn’t have time to scream before he washed her face with the snowball. Coughing and sputtering, she looked up at him, her lashes covered with ice crystals.

But the battle between them quickly faded as Alex stared down at her. She lay perfectly still, her slender body stretched beneath his, their hips pressed together. Her breath came in quick, deep gasps, visible in the cold air. And though he refused to let her go, she didn’t attempt to shout for Eric’s help.

He gently wiped the snow from her eyes. “Do you surrender?” Alex asked, keenly aware of the deeper meaning to his question.

She nodded, her gaze fixed on his, her lips parted. He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek and, to his surprise, she turned her face into his palm, tempting him with a subtle sign of her desire, closing her eyes to await his kiss. Groaning softly, Alex bent nearer, already anticipating the warm sweetness of her mouth, the flood of need that promised to rush through his bloodstream.

But a moment before their lips met, Alex heard a rustling in the nearby trees. He released her wrists and pushed up, bracing his arms on either side of her head. When Eric’s scream split the cold, silent air, Holly stiffened beneath him, then began to wriggle.

Alex groaned. “The kid has impeccable timing.”

“Let me up!” she cried.

The electricity between them died instantly, doused by a healthy dose of reality. When Alex saw Eric’s boots beneath the trees, he rolled to the side. Holly scrambled to her feet and frantically began to brush the snow from her clothes. “You shouldn’t have done that,” she murmured, refusing to meet his gaze. “I—I’m here to do a job and nothing more. I trust you’ll remember that from now on?”

Alex smiled as he struggled to his feet, evidence of his desire pressing against the snow-dampened fabric of his jeans. “Hey, all’s fair in love and war,” he replied. “Isn’t that what they say?”

She opened her mouth to snap out a reply, but just then Eric appeared from behind the tree. He took in his father’s appearance, then grinned. “Holly got you good!” he cried. “We win, we win!”

Alex cleared his throat, then nodded. “Yeah, Scout, Holly got me good.”

The “victor” pasted a bright smile on her face and held out her hand to Eric. “We better get going,” she said. “We still have three trees to find.” Without looking at Alex, she brushed by him and trudged off on her quest for perfection.

When Alex caught up to them, a full five minutes later, he’d managed to quell his physical reaction to their encounter, but couldn’t banish the sense of regret he felt. What might have happened if they’d been alone in the woods, without interruption? Would they have given in to their attraction, finally and fully? She’d wanted him to kiss her. He’d seen it in her eyes, in the way her mouth quivered slightly, in the soft clouds of frozen breath that betrayed her excitement. But how much longer could they both deny what was so blatantly obvious? They wanted each other, in the simplest, most primal way.

“Come on, Dad!” Eric called. “Holly found a tree she likes.”

She stood beside a balsam that resembled every other balsam she’d rejected, her hands clutched in front of her, her attention firmly on the tree. “This is the one,” she murmured, again refusing to look at him.

Alex circled the tree, knowing full well that she’d chosen the first thing she’d come upon. It was clear she’d do anything to escape his presence, including settling for a substandard tree. “What about this bare spot?” he asked.

“We can put it against the wall,” she said, her earlier enthusiasm diminished, her expression uneasy. “And that little one, over there, will be fine for the library. And the one over there for the family room. If you’ll just cut them down, we can be on our way.”

She was upset, but Alex wasn’t sure why. Could he have misread her reactions? Had he been so long without a woman that he couldn’t tell the difference between desire and distaste? He cursed inwardly, cursed his runaway urges and his unbidden reaction to them. “Eric, why don’t you take Miss Bennett back to the house. She looks a little…cold.”

That brought a response, narrowed eyes and cheeks stained red from more than just the frigid air. “I can find my way back on my own,” she said defensively.

“I’m sure you can. But I’d feel better if Eric showed you the way. He knows this land as well as I do.”

Alex watched them go, standing in the same spot until they disappeared behind a low rise in the landscape. Then with a soft groan, he sat down in the snow. Though he’d tried his best to resist her, there was no denying the truth. He wasn’t going to be satisfied until he kissed Holly Bennett, long and hard and deep. Maybe then, he’d be able to put this strange fascination behind him. That was the answer, then. At the next available opportunity, he’d pull her into his arms and kiss her. And finally, that would be the end of it.

Or maybe, it would just be a beginning.