GINA WILKINS

is a bestselling and award-winning author who has written more than sixty-five books. She credits her successful career in romance to her long, happy marriage and her three “extraordinary” children.

A lifelong resident of central Arkansas, Ms Wilkins sold her first book in 1987 and has been writing full-time ever since. She has appeared on various bestseller lists. She is a three-time recipient of the Maggie Award for Excellence, sponsored by Georgia Romance Writers, and has won several awards from the reviewers of Romantic Times.

BENEATH THE MISTLETOE

Make-Believe Mistletoe

GINA WILKINS

Christmas Bonus, Strings Attached

SUSAN CROSBY

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Make-Believe Mistletoe

GINA WIlKINS

For the volunteers in the Rebsamen Hospital

Auxiliary, who do such a tremendous service in

our community and have been so nice to me.

Thank you and Merry Christmas.

Chapter One

Lucy Guerin had never quite understood the appeal of a white Christmas. After all, the holidays were traditionally a time for travel, and snowy weather had a way of seriously impeding travel plans. When Bing Crosby crooned about glistening treetops, he had probably not had anything like this in mind, Lucy thought glumly, staring out the rapidly icing windshield of her small car.

She had asked Santa for a man for Christmas, but she hadn’t meant Jack Frost.

Ice storms happened fast and sometimes without much warning in the Ozarks. The weather guy Lucy had listened to had said that, depending on the temperature, there would be rain or snow or maybe ice. His own guess had been rain changing to light snow with little accumulation.

He had been wrong.

The ice on twisting, rural Highway 65 through north central Arkansas was growing thicker by the moment, causing Lucy’s car to slide perilously. It was rapidly getting dark at 5:00 p.m. on this December 23. Between the heavy clouds and early sundown of winter, little natural light remained to guide her way. The beams of her headlights splintered off the falling ice. She was still several miles from the nearest town, and the only sign she saw warned that the next five miles of road were winding and steep. Great.

She wasn’t going to make it much farther. Her back tires skidded, and it was all she could do to keep the car from sliding off the road. Though this highway was usually well traveled by Branson-bound tourists, the combination of the weather and the approaching holiday had the road almost empty now. Only one other vehicle was visible, an ancient pickup truck following at some distance behind her, also headed north.

Maybe all the other would-be travelers had listened to better weather forecasters.

It was quite a relief when she spotted a driveway ahead—a long gravel road leading to a rock and redwood house set at the foot of a rocky hill. She slowed her car to little more than a crawl to study the place. Evergreen and hardwood trees surrounded the area, but a fair-size yard had been carved out of the woods. The yard was surrounded by a chain-link fence with a gate that crossed the driveway.

A single security pole lamp sat beside the house, casting a dim glow over the place. There were no Christmas lights or other decorations visible, and the windows seemed to be heavily draped or covered with blinds, so Lucy couldn’t tell if there were any lights on inside. For all she knew, no one was home. But she could at least park in the driveway and get off this dangerously slick road before she smashed her car into a mountainside.

She skidded again as she made the turn into the gravel driveway. Holding her breath, she brought the car to a stop in front of the chain-link gate. The old pickup truck slid in behind her, its driver obviously coming to the same conclusion she had about the hazards of traveling farther.

Now what? Lucy drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, staring at the house and wondering if the gate was locked. She could see now that there was another large building behind the house, a workshop, perhaps. No lights in those windows, either. She couldn’t call for assistance from here; her cell phone wasn’t picking up a signal. This, she thought, must be the very spot people referred to when they said “out in the boonies.”

It was getting darker by the minute, and the freezing rain and sleet were falling harder. She heard the distant crack of a tree branch snapping beneath the weight of accumulating ice. She had to do something.

A tap on her driver’s side window made her start. She looked around to see an elderly African-American man huddled beneath a black umbrella that was having little effect against the pelting ice. She rolled down her window and he asked, “Are you okay, miss?”

He looked as though the strong winds would topple him right over—or carry him away by the umbrella like Mary Poppins. “I’m fine, but you should get out of this weather.”

“You think that gate’s locked? Maybe if we blow our horns, someone in the house will come out to let us in. My wife wants me to keep driving, but I don’t think I can get much farther in this.”

“Absolutely not.” He shouldn’t have driven this far.

Lucy reached for her door handle. “You go back to your wife. I’ll see if I can get someone in the house to help us.”

She slipped a little when she stepped out of her car, clutching at the door for balance. Ice bombarded her head and slid down the inside collar of her inadequate leather jacket. She had a heavy parka but it was in her trunk, as she hadn’t expected to be out of her car long enough to need it before reaching her destination.

After making sure the older man was safely back in his truck, Lucy moved carefully toward the gate. The gravel driveway provided a bit more traction than a smooth surface would have, but the hard-packed rocks were still slick and wet. Thank heaven she had worn hiking boots with slip-resistant soles. She had selected them more because they completed her outfit of a heavy hand-knit green sweater and boot-cut jeans than because she had expected to do any hiking, but she was grateful for them now—not that even boots helped much in this weather.

The gate was latched but not locked, she discovered in relief. Cold seeped through her thin leather driving gloves when she lifted the latch and pushed the gate open far enough to allow her to slip through. Literally slip through. She nearly fell on her butt before she caught her balance.

Her curly red hair was wet and icy, and her face was so cold it hurt. She wouldn’t have been surprised if an icicle formed on the end of her nose. Huddling into the fashionable leather jacket, she carefully climbed two slick rock steps to the covered porch that ran the length of the single-story house. It felt somewhat better to be under cover, but no less miserably wet and cold.

She was shaking so hard she missed the doorbell the first time she aimed for it, jabbing her finger into the redwood siding, instead. The second attempt was more successful. She heard a chime echo inside the house. And then she rang it again, hoping this wasn’t the secluded hideaway of a paranoid, gun-toting, bigoted survivalist.

The door finally opened to reveal the most gorgeous man Lucy had ever seen in person. Around thirty. Thick, dark hair, navy-blue eyes, chiseled features, body to die for. What little breath the cold had left in her lungs escaped in a long, appreciative sigh.

Thank you, Santa.

She blinked ice-tipped lashes to clear her vision, just in case she was imagining this apparition of masculine perfection. But no. He was still there, and still fabulous—even if he did wear a less-than-welcoming frown.

“What is it?” he asked, and his deep voice was as beautiful as his face—if a teensy bit grouchy.

“We’re stranded,” she said simply, motioning toward the two vehicles in his driveway. “We need shelter.”

He looked glumly at the ice growing thicker on the ground by the moment. “There’s a motel about fifteen miles down the road,” he offered without much optimism.

“We won’t make it fifteen more feet. It’s treacherous out there—and the old couple in the pickup need to come in out of the cold. Surely you and your family would allow us to come in for a little while?”

“No family,” he muttered. “It’s just me.”

Maybe there really was a Santa Claus. Pushing a long, dripping curl out of her face, Lucy gave him a smile that stung her frozen skin and tried to look less like a wet stray cat. “We would certainly appreciate your help.”

Even as she spoke, another northbound car—this one a beige sedan—skidded into the driveway, gravel spewing as the driver brought the car to a sliding stop only inches from the tailgate of the pickup truck. There was just enough light for Lucy to see that the car held a woman and two children.

The man in the doorway let out a resigned sigh. “I guess you can all come inside.”

His enthusiasm was underwhelming, but Lucy forged on. “We’ll probably need your assistance getting everyone in safely. The ground is as slick as a skating rink, and that’s an elderly couple in the truck. Looks like two small children in the back seat of the sedan. It’s going to be tricky.”

He nodded morosely. “I’ll get my coat. You can come in, if you want. You’re hardly dressed to be traipsing around in an ice storm.”

“I have a hat and a heavier coat in the back of my car. You’ll need my help, I think.”

His eyes swept the length of her five-feet, two-inch, 105-pound frame, making it clear he didn’t know how much help she could offer. But he merely shrugged and turned to fetch his coat.

Lucy frowned at the man’s retreating back. The guy might have the looks of a Tom Cruise, but he apparently had the heart of an Ebenezer Scrooge.

Maybe Santa hadn’t been quite so generous to her this Christmas, after all.

When Banner had opened his front door in response to the completely unexpected chime of the doorbell, his first thought had been that a lost Christmas elf had somehow wandered onto his front porch. The top of her wet red head came barely to his chin. She had enormous green eyes set into a pixie face with a ridiculous excuse for a button nose, a full mouth that looked incongruously sexy in the center of all that cuteness, and a curvy little figure that made him rethink his former appreciation of tall, busty blondes.

When he had learned that she was the first wave of an invasion of strangers into his cherished privacy, he had been tempted to close the door in her cute little face. But even he wasn’t quite that mean, despite what some people might say to the contrary. His ex-wife, for example.

The weather was vicious. Gusts of wind slapped him across the face with icy hands. He pulled his Sherpa collar more snugly around his jaw. His wide-brimmed hat kept his hair dry, but the freezing rain blew sideways, getting him pretty wet everywhere else. He thought wistfully of his warm, dry, peaceful living room, where he had just been sitting with a crackling fire and a good book.

So much for the quiet, lazy winter evening he had been anticipating.

The elf seemed to be taking charge of the rescue. She stopped by her car, where she quickly swapped her stylish leather jacket for a heavier hooded parka. Then she slung the shoulder strap of a bulging duffel bag over one shoulder before slamming her trunk and stuffing her keys into her pocket.

“Dry clothes,” she shouted over the storm. “We’re all going to need them.”

He nodded and picked his way cautiously to the pickup. The driver’s door was already open and a skinny, rather frail-looking man climbed out. “My wife needs help walking,” he called out.

Banner nodded. “Hold on.”

He and the elf looked toward the beige sedan, in which the woman driver was stuffing two young children into coats, hats and mittens. “Can you give her a hand while I help the other couple in?” Banner asked the redhead.

“Yes,” she called back. “You go ahead. We’ll be fine.”

A hiss of air brakes, the skid of tires on ice, and the unmistakable sound of crumpling metal made Banner whirl toward the highway. A large, southbound delivery truck had missed the curve just before his driveway, the cab plowing into the shallow ditch.

Hissing a curse, Banner started to run toward the truck, but he slowed when he saw the driver climb out of the cab, obviously uninjured. Enveloped in a heavy coat, with a broad-brimmed oiled-leather hat pulled low over his face, the mountain of a man trudged toward them.

“You okay?” Banner called out.

A booming bass replied, “Disgusted but undamaged.”

Banner nodded. “I’m trying to get everyone inside,” he said as the large man drew nearer. “Got some women and kids and an old couple here. I could probably use your help with some of them.”

“You bet.” Banner caught a glimpse of sandy beard as the man moved closer, one big foot sliding on the ice but quickly regaining traction.

Turning back to the parked vehicles, Banner saw that the elf and the mother had the children out of the car. The redhead hovered protectively over the little ones while their mother dragged a couple of suitcases out of the sedan. The large man moved toward them to offer assistance.

Banner turned his attention to the elderly couple. The old man was standing inside the open passenger door of the pickup, helping his wife unfasten her seat belt. Moving closer, Banner saw that the woman was even more fragile than her husband. She had snowy-white hair and a wrinkled face that had faded to a soft caramel color. The shapeless cloth coat she wore wasn’t heavy enough for the weather, and Banner wasn’t sure how much her visible tremors were due to age and how much to the cold.

“She uses a walker,” the old man explained, nodding to the silver contraption folded and stowed behind the seat.

“That won’t do any good on rocks and ice.” Banner moved closer, noting that the woman probably didn’t weigh a hundred pounds soaking wet. “Why don’t I just carry you in, ma’am? I won’t drop you.”

“He looks like a strapping young man, Mother,” the woman’s husband said. “Let him carry you inside where it’s warm.”

“All right.” Her voice was thin yet surprisingly strong. “But don’t you go throwing your back out, son.”

As if she weighed enough to make that a concern, Banner thought, moving in to slide his arms beneath her. He’d hauled bags of dog food that weighed more. She put her arms around his neck and held tightly as he lifted her, his feet solidly planted beneath him.

The older man pulled a blanket out of the cab and draped it over his wife’s head, providing some protection from the falling ice. Banner tucked it snugly around her. The old man reached for the walker. “I’ll bring this. And we have suitcases under the tarp in the back.”

“Leave it. I’ll come back for those things,” Banner said, worried that the man wouldn’t be able to keep his balance if he tried carrying anything. It was going to be a tricky enough walk as it was. “Let’s just get inside.”

He could feel the wind biting through the blanket and into the woman’s coat and thin, knit pantsuit as he moved carefully toward the house. She shivered when the downpour gained strength again, and Banner instinctively hunched around her, trying to protect her as much as he could.

He worried that she would catch pneumonia on the way in, and he worried that her husband would fall and break a leg or a hip or something. He was relieved when the big truck driver rejoined them halfway to the house, having already deposited the others inside. The truck driver took the old man’s arm, supporting him for the rest of the walk.

With the couple safely inside, Banner and the truck driver made a second hasty trip outside for more bags and the walker. It was almost completely dark now, and the ice was building thickly on every surface. The woods echoed with the sharp cracks of breaking tree limbs, and Banner cast a frowning glance at the overhead power lines. He figured it was just a matter of time before they were brought down by a falling branch, cutting off the electricity. Fortunately he had laid in a good supply of firewood, candles and batteries.

By the time he finally closed his front door against the storm, he was wet, cold, tired and grouchy. At least no more cars or trucks had arrived. He assumed the roads were so bad now that anyone who had been on them had found shelter elsewhere. He would be willing to bet the state police had closed the mountainous highway by now.

He only hoped the temperature would warm during the night, melting the ice and letting his stranded travelers be on their way. In the meantime, he seemed to have a houseful of unexpected guests.

He stood in the doorway of his big, wood-paneled living room, gazing rather helplessly at the chaos taking place there. Once again the young woman he had dubbed the elf seemed to be in charge. She had found his linen closet and distributed towels and was busily making sure everyone was getting dry and warm. As her hair dried, it curled even more riotously around her face, the red-gold color mimicking the fire crackling in the big stone fireplace.

The mother and two children were close to the hearth. Mom was a somewhat mousy-looking, average-size brunette with purple-shadowed brown eyes and nervous hands. Banner guessed her age to be midthirties, a few years older than himself. She was towel drying the hair of a little girl of maybe five years, a brown-eyed, pink-nosed duplicate of her mother.

A brown-haired boy whom Banner guessed to be around seven stood nearby, staring in fascination at Banner’s enormous, dumb lump of a dog. The multicolored mutt sat on his favorite scrap of rug, studying the roomful of strangers with his usual unflappable acceptance of circumstances.

The truck driver had shed his big coat, but that hadn’t reduced his overall size by much. Broad-faced, bearded and barrel-chested, he might have been forty, and he looked as though he’d have been as at home panning for gold in the Old West as behind the wheel of a big truck. He rubbed a towel over his bushy, sandy hair, leaving it standing in spikes around his ruddy face.

The older woman Banner had carried inside huddled beneath a thick, dry blanket also retrieved from his linen closet. She sat in a Windsor rocker pulled close to the fire, and the firelight flickered over her lined face, highlighting the fine bone structure that was still beautiful. She looked so fragile it scared him now to think he had carried her in; what if he’d dropped her or fallen?

Her husband hovered around her chair, his wispy gray hair already dry, his bent hands patting his wife as if to assure himself that she was all right. Banner doubted that either of them was younger than eighty.

What on earth was he going to do with all these people?

Lucy noticed that their host was standing in the doorway, looking rather dazed. She supposed she couldn’t blame him. Judging by the nice fire and the mystery novel sitting open beside a cooling cup of coffee on the table next to a big recliner, he had just settled down to ride out the storm in comfortable solitude. Except, of course, for the company of his dog—the shaggiest, oddest-colored, laziest-looking mutt Lucy had ever seen.

At least the dog didn’t seem to mind the company—which was more than she could say for its owner, who was definitely showing signs of stress.

Someone needed to do something to put him more at ease. Never one to wait around for others to take care of things she could handle herself, she gave him a big smile. “Thank you so much for taking us in. You’ve been very kind, Mr…?”

“Just call me Banner,” he said, lifting a hand to massage the back of his neck.

She nodded. “Mr. Banner.”

“Just Banner,” he corrected, letting his hand fall to his side.

“Oh.” Strange, but anyway… “I’m Lucy Guerin. I’m on my way to Springfield, Missouri, to spend Christmas with my family. Why don’t the rest of you introduce yourselves?”

She knew she sounded like a too-perky cruise director, but the man who called himself “just Banner” was making her nervous, lurking glumly in the doorway like that. She turned to the mother and children behind her. “What are your names?”

The woman’s face paled, as if she had been asked to make an impromptu speech in front of a large audience. The shy type, apparently—which Lucy had never been.

“I’m, um, Joan Gatewood,” the woman finally murmured. “These are my children, Tyler and Tricia. We’re going to my mother’s house in Hollister, Missouri, for the holiday.”

“I’m Cordell Carter,” the older man said, smoothing a spotted hand over his mostly bald head. “Everyone calls me Pop. This is Annie, my wife of sixty-two years. We’re on our way to Harrison to our grandson’s house.”

“Sixty-two years of marriage,” Lucy repeated in wonder. “Mrs. Carter, you must have been a child bride.”

The old woman’s weary eyes brightened with her smile, which still held hints of the mischievous grin that had likely captivated her husband sixty-two years ago—and apparently still did. “I was twenty-three. And you can just call me Miss Annie. Everyone always has. ‘Mrs. Carter’ reminds me of my mother-in-law, and I never cared much for her, God rest her contrary soul.”

Her husband chuckled and patted his wife’s shoulder indulgently, seeming to take no offense to the slight to his late mother. After so many years, Lucy figured he must have gotten used to it.

“I’m Bobby Ray Jones,” the big truck driver volunteered. “I was headed the opposite direction from the rest of you—s’posed to be in Little Rock by tonight. I’d hoped I could beat the storm, but I guess I miscalculated. My boss is going to be ticked off that I put the rig in a ditch, but that’s just too bad, I guess.”

Lucy noted that Joan Gatewood was eying the big, bearded man with the same wariness she displayed toward Banner’s huge dog. Apparently Joan was intimidated by large, hairy critters. As for herself, Lucy thought Bobby Ray seemed very pleasant. Everyone here seemed nice—with the possible exception of their glowering host.

“Okay,” she said, wiping her hands on her jeans. “Now that we know who everyone is….”

“What’s the dog’s name?” Tyler asked, pointing to the mutt.

Lucy looked questioningly at Banner.

“That’s Hulk,” he said, speaking to the boy. “He answers to Hulk or Get-Out-From-Under-My-Feet-Stupid.”

The unexpected quip took everyone by such surprise that there was a brief hesitation before they laughed. Though Lucy smiled, she wasn’t entirely sure Banner had been joking.

Returning to the task at hand, she said, “Now, we all need to get into dry clothes and—wait a minute.”

She whirled back to their host, her hands on her hips. “Your name is Banner and the dog’s name is Hulk? I don’t suppose your first name is Bruce?”

“No.” He looked at her without smiling. “You haven’t wandered into a comic book.”

No kidding. Despite the joke he had just made, she hadn’t seen this guy crack a smile since they had arrived. He obviously had a warped sense of humor, but he did a good job of hiding it.

Shaking her head, she turned back to the others. “We need dry clothes and a telephone so we can call our families and let them know we’re safe.”

“Mommy, I’m hungry,” Tricia said, tugging at her mother’s damp blouse.

“I’ll start a pot of soup or something,” Banner said, and once again he sounded glumly resigned. “The telephone is on that table. Make yourselves at home.”

As he turned away, Lucy thought she heard him add beneath his breath, “It’s not as if there’s any other choice.”

Chapter Two

Following the scents of food, Lucy wandered into the kitchen a short time later. She had changed into a dark-red sweater and dry jeans, and her feet were clad in thick red socks. She’d left her boots by the fire to dry.

Still wearing the damp jeans and gray sweatshirt he’d worn earlier, though he had kicked off his rubberized boots, Banner stood at the stove, stirring something in a large stockpot.

“That smells delicious. What is it?”

“Vegetable-beef soup,” he answered without turning around. “I hope no one’s a vegetarian. If they are, I’ll rustle up something else.”

She peered over his shoulder into the pot. “That looks homemade.”

“It is. I had a couple of containers stashed in the freezer. All I had to do was thaw and heat.” A timer dinged, and he reached for an oven mitt, then bent to pull a large pan of corn bread from the oven. It smelled as good as the soup.

Lucy stared at Banner in astonishment. “You made all of this?”

He shrugged. “I like to eat, and I’m the only one here to do the cooking.”

“I see.”

“Where’s everyone else?”

Just as he spoke, a heavy gust of wind threw ice pellets against the kitchen window. The lights flickered but remained on.

Relieved that they hadn’t been plunged into darkness, Lucy released the breath she had been holding. “Pop and Miss Annie are changing clothes in your bedroom. Joan and the children are using the guest room. Bobby Ray waited while I changed in the bathroom, and now he’s in there.”

“I’m surprised he fit.”

Lucy laughed. The bathroom was rather small and Bobby Ray was notably large. But Banner wasn’t smiling. Did he ever?

One half of the big country kitchen served as a dining room. A double trestle oak table filled most of the area on the other side of a sit-down bar fitted with two oak stools. The table was surrounded by six ladder-back oak chairs—a lot of seating space for a man who lived alone, she mused. “Would you like me to set the table?”

He pointed. “Dishes are in that cabinet.”

Lucy carried an armload of functional brown stoneware to the dining area. She paused to run a hand appreciatively over the smooth surface of the table. Bending, she studied the solid but graceful pedestals, then took a moment to admire one of the beautifully contoured chairs. She glanced up to find Banner watching her, and she smiled a bit self-consciously.

“I have a thing for nice furniture,” she admitted, “and you have some beautiful pieces. This dining set is wonderful. And that rocker in the living room is gorgeous. And I couldn’t help but notice the tables in the living room and the furniture in the bedrooms. So much nice wood.”

“Thanks.” He turned back to the stove.

She stroked a hand over the smooth grain of the tabletop again, envying him the opportunity to do so every day. “I really admire the quality of this dining set. Do you mind if I ask where you shop for your furniture?”

“My shop’s back behind the house.”

“No, I meant—wait a minute. You made this set?”

“Yeah.” He tasted the soup, nodded, then set the spoon in the sink.

“And the other furniture? You made all of it?”

“My great-uncle made the furniture in the bedrooms. I built the rocker and tables in the living room.”

She rubbed her hand over the back of a chair again, loving the feel of the wood. “Is this what you do for a living? Build furniture?”

“Mostly outdoor furniture. Swings, Adirondack chairs, outdoor rockers. The stuff that’s sold in tourist towns like Branson and Eureka Springs and Mountain View.”

“You’re very talented.”

“Thanks. The food’s ready. I guess we should bring everyone in.”

He cooked and he built furniture. But he didn’t make small talk, Lucy decided. Who was this guy?

It was a subdued group that gathered around the beautiful table a few minutes later. Bobby Ray had given Miss Annie his arm for the short walk to the table, but she looked so tired that Lucy worried about her. The storm still raged outside, making the lights flicker periodically, and she knew everyone was wondering when they could leave this place. Tomorrow was Christmas Eve, and there were places they all wanted to be for the holidays.

Banner wasn’t by any means a jovial, put-everyone-at-ease type host. He sat in silence at the head of the table, eating his soup and corn bread without looking up much. Was it possible that he was shy? Or just not particularly friendly?

Joan and the children sat at one side of the table, opposite Lucy and the Carters. The kids had pulled the bar stools to the table, raising them high enough to easily reach their soup bowls and keeping them close to their mother.

They were quiet, well-behaved children, Lucy mused. Perhaps they took their behavioral cues from their mother, who seemed to take great pains not to call attention to herself. Was she simply shy—or someone who had been beaten down by circumstances until there was little spirit left in her?

It seemed that it was again up to Lucy to try to raise everyone’s spirits. “Did you all get through to your families to let them know you’re safe?” she asked the table at large.

She was answered with a silent round of nods.

Okay, new tactic. She smiled at Tyler. “How old are you, Tyler? I would guess around seven.”

“I’ll be eight in February,” he replied.

A complete sentence. She was making progress. “So you’re in second grade?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m in kindergarten,” Tricia supplied, not to be left out.

“Are you? Do you like it?” Lucy asked encouragingly.

Tricia nodded. “My teacher’s nice. I like music time best.”

“Where do you live?” Lucy looked at Joan this time, hoping to draw her into the conversation.

“We’re from Mayflower,” Joan murmured. “That’s north of Little Rock…”

“I know where Mayflower is,” Lucy said with a smile. “I live in Conway, practically next door to you.”

“Mother and I have a little place outside of Jacksonville,” Pop supplied, patting his wife’s hand. “We’ve lived there more than forty years.”

Lucy wondered about the wisdom of a man in his mid-eighties making a three-hour drive in an old pickup truck, especially in weather that had promised to be cold and rainy at best. What was his family thinking to let him make that trip?

Because that was really none of her business, Lucy spoke to Bobby Ray. “Do you live in Little Rock or was that a business stop?”

“I live there. I was hoping to make it home this evening. But my boss just told me on the phone that the weather guys are saying it could be day after tomorrow before the roads are passable.”

“Day after tomorrow?” Tyler’s eyes widened in alarm. “But that’s Christmas! We can’t stay here until Christmas!”

“What about Santa Claus?” Tricia looked at her mother in dismay. “We told him we would be at Grandma’s house. He’s s’posed to come tomorrow.”

Lucy noted that Banner’s face was showing new signs of strain in the form of deep lines around his stern mouth. Not only had his home been invaded by a group of strangers, but those strangers were all making it quite clear that they would rather be somewhere else. She couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him.

“Don’t worry about Santa Claus,” Joan told her children. “Even if he can’t come see you tomorrow night, he’ll make a special trip as soon as we’ve settled somewhere.”

The children still looked crestfallen, and Lucy couldn’t blame them. Now the general mood around the table was depressed again.

“Banner, this soup is delicious,” she said, determinedly cheerful. “You’re an excellent cook.”

“Thanks.”

“Mother’s a wonderful cook,” Pop said, trying to help Lucy with the conversation. “Barbecued chicken, pork chops, spare ribs. And her pies—best coconut cream pie in the whole world. Her chocolate pie’s good, too.”

“Don’t cook as much as I used to,” Miss Annie murmured, glancing at her gnarled hands. “I still like to cook fresh vegetables in the summertime, though.”

“We used to grow all our own vegetables,” Pop added. “Had a big ol’ garden back behind the house. Can’t do it much anymore, now that the arthritis has gotten so bad. Still put some tomato plants in every spring, though.”

Miss Annie gave him a sweet smile. “Pop loves his fresh sliced tomatoes.”

Lucy watched the exchange between the couple with a wistful envy. Sixty-two years of marriage, she thought. Children, grandchildren, companionship and memories.

She wanted that for herself. As her twenty-eighth birthday approached, she found herself thinking about it more and more. She was perfectly capable of supporting herself and taking care of herself, but she wanted the fairy tale. The husband and children who loved her and who she could adore in return. The happily-ever-after. The sixty-second wedding anniversary.

The only thing holding her back was the fact that she was having a great deal of difficulty finding anyone she actually wanted to marry.

“Does anyone want more soup?” Banner asked gruffly, drawing her attention back to him.

Gosh, he was gorgeous, she thought, sighing a little as she admired the way the overhead light gleamed in his thick, dark hair. But good looks alone weren’t enough to put a guy on her prospect list, as she knew from several disastrous dates with very attractive—and completely unsuitable—men.

No one wanted more soup.

“Let me clean the kitchen,” Joan offered shyly, glancing at Banner and then quickly away. “You’ve been so generous to all of us. I’d like to help out.”

“I’ll help,” Lucy offered.

“Let me help you back to the living room, Miss Annie,” Bobby Ray said, pushing away from the table.

“Actually, I think I’d like to lie down for a few minutes,” Miss Annie replied, her smile weary. “Would that be all right with you, Mr. Banner?”

“Just call me Banner, ma’am.” Lucy noted that he spoke to the old woman with a respectful warmth that was notably missing in his brief dealings with his other guests. “You’re welcome to use my room for as long as you’re here. There are plenty of other places where I can sleep.”

Miss Annie beamed at him. “Thank you. You’re a very kind young man.”

Lucy was fascinated to see the faintest touch of red appear briefly on Banner’s tanned cheeks. Were compliments that rare for him?

Tricia was growing tired, too, and stressed by the changes in her routines and holiday plans. She began to whine, and when her brother taunted her about it, a squabble began.

Lucy watched as deep lines appeared around Banner’s mouth again. Apparently, he hadn’t spent much time around children—and judging by his expression, he would have been content to leave it that way.

“Why don’t you take care of the children,” Lucy suggested to Joan. “They’re tired and unsettled. I’ll clean up in here.”

The harried mother sighed and nodded. “I suppose that would be best.”

“There’s a TV in the living room,” Banner said. “I have satellite. Maybe you can find something to entertain the kids.”

Nodding again, Joan ushered her children out of the room, leaving Lucy alone with Banner.

“I can take care of this,” Lucy assured Banner when he reached for a dirty bowl.

“I’d just as soon clean the kitchen as go back in there.”

She couldn’t help smiling at his tone. “You must feel as though your home has been overrun.”

“A bit,” he agreed.

She wondered again if he ever smiled. She couldn’t help imagining what a smile would do to his already spectacular face. For the sake of her peace of mind, it was probably just as well that he continued to glower.

“I’m sorry your peaceful evening was so rudely interrupted,” she said as she carried a stack of bowls to the sink.

“Couldn’t be helped. Too dangerous out on the road, which is why none of you should have been out driving. Especially the Carters.”

“I suppose all of us were so anxious to get to our holiday destinations that we didn’t pay enough attention to the weather forecasts—even though the guy I listened to got it all wrong,” she added in a grumble.

Without responding, Banner squirted dishwashing liquid into the warm water filling his deep sink. No dishwasher, Lucy noted as he reached for the first bowl. She supposed he didn’t need one just for himself and Hulk.

She picked up a dish towel to dry the bowls after he washed and rinsed them. There wasn’t a lot of room in front of the sink, so they stood nearly shoulder to shoulder—or rather, shoulder to forearm, since he was a good ten inches taller. Another reason he wasn’t going on her prospect list, she reminded herself. When a woman was just under five-three on her tallest days, men six feet and over were simply too tall for a comfortable match.

Because his silence was making her nervous, she asked, “Do you have any special plans for Christmas, Banner? Or did the weather interfere with your travel, too?”

“I had no plans.”

“Oh. You don’t celebrate Christmas?” Not everyone did, she reminded herself belatedly. She should have thought of that already.

But he shook his head. “I do observe Christmas—I just didn’t have any plans this year.”

“You don’t have a family?” Her admittedly overtender heart immediately twisted. How sad to be alone, especially during the holidays.

“I have family. I simply wasn’t in the mood to travel this year.”

“None of them live close by?”

“No.” He put another bowl in her hands, seeming to take care not to touch her in the process.

Okay, maybe she was asking too many questions. Not everyone liked talking about themselves, though most of the men she had encountered lately seemed obsessed with the subject. Maybe he would rather hear about her, instead.

“I love Christmas. I always spend it with my favorite aunt and uncle in Springfield—my father’s younger sister and her husband and their two sons. My father is an Army major stationed in Texas, and he’ll fly in on Christmas day—weather permitting, of course.”

A hard wind blew against the window over the sink, and the lights flickered again, staying out a bit longer this time. Lucy sighed in relief when they came back on, though she figured it was just a matter of time before the power went out.

Since that thought made her even more nervous, she chattered on. “My mother died when I was almost thirteen. My father sent me to live with my aunt and uncle after that, so they’re almost like parents to me.”

“Here.” He set the clean, wet stockpot in her hands. “This goes in the cabinet next to the stove.”

So maybe he wasn’t interested in talking about her, either. “Do you think this ice storm will stop soon?” she asked, seizing on the weather as a last-ditch conversational gambit.

He dried his hands on a paper towel, studying her with a slightly quizzical expression. “You’re not one to let a moment of silence slip by, are you?”

Something about his wording amused her. Totally unoffended, she chuckled. “I’m afraid not. I tend to talk a lot, anyway, but especially when I’m nervous.”

“You’re nervous now?” That seemed to surprise him.

“Maybe a little.”

“Because of the storm?”

It seemed an innocuous enough excuse. “Okay.”

“You’re safe here, you know. Even if the power goes out, I have plenty of firewood and a gas stove to cook on.”

She found his somewhat awkward attempt to reassure her rather touching. Darned if she wasn’t starting to like him—at least a little—despite his curt manners. “I know we’re safe. It’s just a little…awkward.”

“Tell me about it.” He glanced toward the doorway as if he still wasn’t particularly looking forward to joining the others.

Lucy glanced at her watch. It was only seven-thirty. What were they going to do for the rest of the evening?

Bobby Ray wandered through the kitchen door, pushing a meaty hand through his bushy hair. “Miss Annie is asleep,” he informed them. “I talked Pop into lying down, too. Poor old guy’s wiped out, though he won’t admit it. Stubborn old bird. Reminds me of my grandpa.”

“I had a great-uncle like that,” Banner said. “Lived on his own until he was eighty-two, when he died in his sleep of a heart attack. Never would accept any help or advice from anyone.”

It was the most Banner had volunteered about himself since they’d arrived. Lucy wondered exactly how much Banner had in common with the great-uncle he seemed to have admired so much.

“I threw some more wood on the fire,” Bobby Ray said. “Getting kind of low in the wood box. You want me to bring some more in?”

“I keep a good supply on the back porch, under cover.” Banner motioned toward the back door on the other side of the bar.

Bobby Ray nodded. “Good. We’re probably going to need it. I just caught a local news report on the TV, and they said electricity’s going out all over this part of the state. I imagine we’ll be in the dark ourselves directly.”

Lucy shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.

Banner looked at her in question.

“I’m not really crazy about being in the dark,” she admitted.

“Does it make you nervous?”

She smiled wryly. “Yes.”

Banner glanced at Bobby Ray. “At least we won’t have to worry that it will get too quiet.”

It was another example of Banner’s odd sense of humor—and once again he’d said it without even a hint of a smile.

“Very funny, Banner,” she muttered.

He gave her a look that might have held a gleam of amusement. And, darn it, she felt her toes start to curl in response to that hint of a smile.

Time to get control again. “Okay,” she said, “so what are we going to do with everybody? You have only two bedrooms, right?”

Banner nodded. “The Carters can have mine, and Joan and the kids can have the other. Bobby Ray and I will bunk in the living room and you can sleep on the couch in my office.”

“Your office?”

He jerked his head toward a closed door on the far side of the kitchen. “In there.”

She nodded. “That will work. What about—”

Someone pushed her from behind. She turned to find Banner’s dog standing behind her, taking up most of the spare room in the kitchen. It was the first time she had seen the beast standing up, and he was nearly the size of a small horse. She hardly had to bend over to look straight into his lazy eyes.

“He needs to go out,” Banner said. “You’re standing in his way.”

“Excuse me,” Lucy said to the dog, scooting to one side.

The dog made a grumbly sound that might have been a response, then ambled to the door, where he gave Banner a look over his shoulder. A gust of damp, icy air entered the room when Banner opened the door. The dog gazed dolefully out past the covered porch to the wet, ice-coated yard beyond. He gave a deep sigh, then walked out, his shaggy head already hunched in preparation for the elements.

Lucy couldn’t help smiling at the mutt’s behavior. “He’s a very…interesting character.”

Banner gave her another one of those looks that wasn’t quite a smile. “He’s excited by all the company.”

“That’s excited? How can you tell?”

“He’s awake.”

She laughed. “I see.”

Lucy stood back and watched as Banner pulled a big towel out of a cabinet. He opened the back door, letting dog and cold air inside again. After toweling the mutt off, he gave him a bone-shaped dog treat from a box he kept on the counter near the door. With a low “woof” of thanks, the dog strolled out of the room.

Lucy grinned as she watched the long scraggly tail disappear through the doorway. She was beginning to like that dog a lot.

She was still reserving judgment about his owner.

Chapter Three

Banner couldn’t remember this many people being in his house since—well, ever. Having brought in one of the straight-backed chairs from the dining room for himself, he sat uncomfortably in one corner of his living room, studying the others, who were watching a Christmas special on TV.

The Carters were still resting; Banner wouldn’t be surprised if they were down for the night. They had both looked exhausted after dinner.

Sprawled in Banner’s big leather recliner, Bobby Ray rubbed his bearded chin. His eyes were focused on the television screen, but his thoughts were obviously elsewhere.

Joan and Tricia sat on Banner’s brown suede couch, Tricia’s head cradled on her mother’s lap. Tyler lay on the floor, using Hulk for a pillow. The dog seemed perfectly content to serve in that capacity; his head was on his paws and quiet snores escaped him every so often.

Though he barely knew them, the children seemed subdued to Banner, probably still upset that their holiday plans had been disrupted. They watched the TV, but without much enthusiasm.

Finally Banner turned his gaze to Lucy, who sat in the brown-and-tan-striped easy chair, leaving the Windsor rocker as the only unoccupied chair in the room. Banner had been trying to avoid looking at Lucy, but it wasn’t easy. She fascinated him. No matter how hard he tried to concentrate on the others, it was Lucy who kept drawing his attention.

She seemed to be trying to watch the program, but judging by her restless fidgeting, she was having trouble concentrating. Banner got the distinct impression that she would rather be moving around and talking at her usual mile-a-minute rate. There was a lot of pent-up energy in that tidy little package, he mused, letting his gaze drift down her figure.

He and Lucy seemed to be opposites. While he was content to spend days, even weeks, with no company but his own, Lucy probably preferred having lots of people around. She was gregarious, extroverted, impulsive, emotional. He was none of those things.

A woman like Lucy would certainly have no interest in a socially awkward, frequently tongue-tied, oddball loner like Banner. But that certainly didn’t make him any less mesmerized by her.

Another strong gust of wind rattled the windows, and the lights flickered again. Once, twice, three times before they stabilized.

Tricia whimpered and Joan comforted her. Banner noticed that Lucy had paled a little and seemed to be chewing on her full lower lip. The prospect of being in the dark made her nervous, and when she was nervous she tended to babble, he reminded himself. She must be making quite an effort to remain quiet so the children could enjoy the television program.

The singing and dancing gave way to a commercial, and Lucy looked away from the screen. Her gaze met Banner’s, and she gave him a tentative smile. “You don’t look very comfortable over there.”

“I’m fine.” He didn’t know squat about being a host—and even less about running a bed and breakfast, which he seemed to be doing at the moment. He suspected he should be doing more than sitting in a chair staring at everyone like a silent sphinx. “Um, does anyone need anything?”

Apparently, no one did. The room fell silent again except for the sounds from the TV speakers and the storm outside. Banner sat back to watch the show, but his attention kept wandering to Lucy, to his annoyance.

The Christmas special ended at 9 p.m. By that time Tricia, Tyler and Hulk were all asleep, and Bobby Ray looked ready to join them.

“I’d better get these two into bed,” Joan said, looking at her sleeping children.

Bobby Ray stirred and rose to his feet. “Want me to haul the boy in there for you?”

Joan glanced at him, then quickly away, and Banner wondered if the timid woman was unsettled by Bobby Ray’s size. But then, she seemed intimidated by Banner, too, and he was two inches shorter and a good seventy pounds lighter than the truck driver.

“I can manage,” Joan said in the tone of a woman who was accustomed to taking care of herself and her children without assistance.

Bobby Ray yawned again. “Then I’ll have a drink of water before turning in. You take the couch, Banner. The recliner’s comfortable enough for me.”

Banner stood, compelled again to do something host-like. “There are extra blankets in the guestroom closet,” he told Joan. “If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“We’ll be fine,” she assured him, her arms around her sleepy children.

He nodded. “I put a flashlight on the nightstand in case the power goes out. If it gets too cold, you and the kids can bring blankets and pillows in here and bunk in front of the fire.”

He had a small gas log fireplace in the master bedroom, so even if the power went out, the Carters should be okay. They had an attached bath, which would give them privacy and keep Miss Annie from having to walk too far. He had already carried blankets and a pillow into the office for Lucy.

He waited until Lucy emerged from the face-washing and tooth-brushing line for the bathroom, letting Bobby Ray go in after her, and then he motioned toward the doorway that led to the kitchen and office. “I’ll walk with you,” he said. “Just to make sure everything’s okay.”

“Thanks.” Slinging her big duffel bag over one shoulder, she went ahead of him, giving him an intriguing view of her tight, compact backside. He lifted his gaze to the back of her head, reprimanding himself for the thoughts running through his head—thoughts she certainly wouldn’t approve of from a total stranger upon whom she was temporarily dependent.

The office was a small, single-windowed room stuck onto the far side of the house. It was furnished with a large desk that held a computer, printer, phone and fax machine. A copier on a stand was shoved into one corner, and a faded and rather worn green corduroy couch had been pushed against one wall. A white-cased pillow, clean sheets and two blankets waited on one end of the rather shabby green couch.

“It’s not pretty, but it’s comfortable,” he said, motioning toward the couch. “I’ve napped on it a few times. So has Hulk, I’m afraid, but I tried to brush off all the dog hair.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.” She cast a wary glance at the curtainless window that rattled every time the wind blew. “Maybe you could lower those blinds for me?”

He moved to do so. “You’re sure you’ll be okay in here?”

She gave him a smile that was just a shade too bright. “I’ll be fine,” she said again.

He knew she was worried about a power outage. She’d made it clear enough that she didn’t like the dark. Opening a desk drawer, he took out a small flashlight and handed it to her. She accepted it gratefully.

“You certainly seem prepared for company,” she said, motioning toward the pillow and extra blankets. “Does your family visit often?”

“No. I inherited most of my household supplies from my great-uncle. He built this house.”

“The great-uncle who lived alone until he died?”

He had almost forgotten that he’d mentioned his uncle Joe to Lucy. “Yeah. He died four years ago, leaving me his house and workshop.”

Lucy was already spreading sheets on the couch, her backside swaying with the movements. Banner stuck his hands in his pockets and half turned away, keeping his gaze focused intently on anything but her. He cleared his throat. “Let me know if you need anything during the night.”

“Banner?” She spoke quickly as he stepped through the doorway, his hand on the doorknob. “Would you leave the door open, please?”

He did so, saying over his shoulder, “Keep the flashlight close at hand in case you need it.”

“I certainly will,” he heard her mutter.

She really was nervous. He wondered if her fear of the dark had a basis in experience or if it was a quirk. Maybe she was afraid because circumstances had stranded her here in an unfamiliar place.

All things considered, he was a bit nervous himself. It seemed odd, though, that of all the strangers camped out in his home, Lucy was the only one who reduced him to the almost inarticulate self-consciousness that had plagued him during his awkward youth.

As Banner had promised, the couch was more comfortable than it looked. Lucy nestled into the covers, trying not to think about the storm outside. At least she couldn’t see the creepy, ice-covered branches swaying now that Banner had closed the blinds.

He had left a dim light on in the kitchen, which provided enough illumination to make her reasonably comfortable. She wondered if he always kept that particular bulb burning at night, or if he’d left it on because she had told him the dark made her nervous.

To reassure herself, she slid a hand under her pillow, touching the flashlight he had provided her with. He really was trying to be a good host in his own awkward way, she thought with a slight smile.

She wondered why a young, good-looking guy like him lived alone out here in the back of nowhere. She wondered why he wasn’t joining his family for Christmas. She wondered if he had a girlfriend. And as she drifted into the first stages of sleep, she wondered if he wanted one….

The sound of someone breathing deeply, heavily in her ear brought her eyes open in a hurry. She nearly had a heart attack when she saw a big, dark form looming over her, so close to her face she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said a moment later, not sure if she was relieved.

Hulk laid his shaggy head on her arm. Moving clumsily, she patted him with her other hand. “I know I’m on your couch, but I’m not moving,” she said. “You’ll have to take the floor if you’re sleeping in here.”

He sighed deeply, then removed his head from her arm, curled up on the braided rug in front of the couch and was soon snoring.

That dog was downright spooky, Lucy thought, shaking her head as she settled into her pillow again. But then, Hulk’s owner wasn’t exactly ordinary.

The power went out just as she closed her eyes again. There wasn’t a warning flicker this time, not even a hard gust of wind. Everything just quietly went dark. Pitch-dark.

Lucy sat up with a gasp. She couldn’t see the doorway into the kitchen now. Without the background noises of the heater and other electric appliances, the house was completely silent. She could hear the wind and ice outside, and occasional sharp cracks that she knew were more tree branches snapping.

She hadn’t heard the branch that had taken down the power lines.

Her heart pounded in her throat as she strained to see through the inky blackness. She was growing disoriented, unsure now exactly where the door was. The sounds from outside seemed to grow louder and eerier. Creaks and pops and groans—strange noises in a strange place.

“Hulk?” she whispered, reaching unsteadily for the dog. Even his presence would be comforting now. But he wasn’t there. The shaggy mutt had slipped out as stealthily as he had entered earlier, leaving Lucy alone in the dark.

Drawing a deep breath to calm herself, she remembered the flashlight under her pillow. It must have been panic that had driven it from her mind before, she thought sheepishly, making a dive for it. She felt better immediately when her fingers closed around the metal cylinder. And then she cursed beneath her breath when she fumbled to find the button that would turn it on. She should have figured out how to work it before the lights went out, she chided herself.

A thin beam of light swept over her, settling on her hands. “Twist the top to turn it on,” Banner said from across the room.

Following his instructions, she sighed in relief when her efforts turned the flashlight on. The light hit her full in the eyes, making her squint, but that was okay. As long as she had light, she thought, aiming the flashlight toward Banner’s legs. She didn’t want to blind him, too.

She saw now that his dog stood close beside him. Surely that beast wasn’t afraid of the dark.

“Are you okay?” Banner asked quietly.

“Yes, I’m fine.” She wished her voice hadn’t quavered.

He moved a few steps closer to the couch. “You don’t sound fine.”

“No, really, I’m okay. We knew the power would go out.”

“It’s going to get cold in here. You’ll probably want to bring your pillow and blankets and sleep in front of the fire.”

That sounded like a good plan. Fire gave off both heat and light. She threw off her blankets and swung her legs over the edge of the couch. She still wore her sweater, jeans and socks, so she didn’t have to worry about modesty. Awkwardly gathering her pillow and blankets while still balancing the flashlight, she took a step toward Banner—and promptly tripped over one of the blankets.

Banner caught her before she could hit the floor. His arms closed around her, pulling her against him, and she became aware of exactly how strong that slim body of his really was. Woodworking seemed to be very good for building muscles, she thought a bit dreamily.

“You okay?” His deep voice was very close to her ear as he bent his head over her.

If her hands hadn’t been so full, she might have been tempted to let them roam up his chest—to satisfy her curiosity about the definition of the muscles beneath his gray sweatshirt.

Except for his small flashlight, Banner’s hands were free—not moving, just holding her. His face was close to her hair, and he didn’t immediately move away. It looked as though it was going to be up to her to move first—before she did something stupid. Like dropping those blankets and satisfying her overactive curiosity.

She took a step backward. Banner’s hands fell immediately to his side, and he, too, moved to put even more space between them. The dog shuffled out of his way, bumping against Lucy’s hip. She certainly didn’t want to risk stumbling again, which could very likely lead to her ending up back in Banner’s arms.

With a very faint, slightly wistful sigh, she followed carefully as he led her through the kitchen and toward the living room.

Bobby Ray knelt in front of the fire, slowly adding wood. The flickering firelight danced across his broad face, gleaming in his thick hair and beard. “You doing okay, Lucy?” he asked, looking up from his task.

“Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

Bobby Ray pushed himself to his feet and adjusted the fireplace screen. “I doubt the power will be back on anytime tonight. It’s going to get cold.”

Lucy glanced toward the two bedrooms. “What about the others?”

“The bedrooms are more heavily insulated than the office, which was an add-on,” Banner said. “There’s a gas fire burning in the master bedroom, so it should stay fairly comfortable in there. Joan and the kids are sharing a bed and a pile of blankets, so I think they’ll be okay.”

Had Banner made the effort to come after Lucy because he thought she would get too cold—or because he knew she didn’t like the dark? Either way, it had been a nice thing for him to do.

Bobby Ray leaned back into the recliner and raised the footrest. He pulled a blanket over himself and settled in more comfortably, making the chair frame creak. “Good night, y’all.”

Lucy started to lay her blankets on the floor in front of the fire, but Banner put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Take the couch. I’ll bunk on the floor.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine here. You go back to the couch.”

“No.” The firelight played across Banner’s mulish expression. “You’ll be more comfortable on the couch. The floor’s fine for me.”

His hand was warm on her arm, even through her clothes. She could think of plenty of ways to ward off the cold with Banner—but not in front of Bobby Ray. Her cheeks going hot in response to the unbidden thought, she cleared her throat. “You’ve already made up the couch for yourself. I’ll just—”

A loud sigh erupted from the recliner. “Lucy, will you get on the couch? I’m pretty sure Banner’s more stubborn than you are, and this argument could go on for a while.”

“Sorry, Bobby Ray,” she murmured, and gave in—mostly because she suspected the truck driver was right about who was more stubborn.

A few minutes later Lucy was settled on the couch, and Banner and his dog lay on the floor in front of the fire, Banner in the sleeping bag he’d spread on the couch earlier. Bobby Ray snored rhythmically in the recliner, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the room got quiet again.

Even though Banner had taken the pillow he’d used before, Lucy was still too aware that he had recently been on the same couch where she now lay. It was silly, of course, for her to feel as though she could still detect the heat from his body radiating from the thick cushions.

Something about Banner sent her sadly neglected libido into spasms. She didn’t know if it was the way he looked—or the way he looked at her. It certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality that drew her. But there were other things about him: his awkward attempts at hospitality, his low-key and decidedly offbeat sense of humor, his skill in the kitchen…

She couldn’t help wondering about his skill in other rooms.

An exasperated sigh escaped her as she hid her face in the pillow in an attempt to smother that thought.

Banner lifted his head to look her way. “Lucy? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered back, squeezing her eyes closed and ordering herself to go to sleep.

Maybe all that ice had given her a case of brain-freeze, she thought. She was quite sure she would have herself completely under control again by morning.

After a restless night Lucy woke early, the tantalizing scent of coffee tickling her nostrils. The fire still crackled steadily, providing warmth and light, but neither Banner nor Bobby Ray were in the room.

She didn’t like waking up in strange surroundings. She felt grubby and rumpled and disoriented—her hair a mess, her face pillow-creased, her clothes wrinkled. She snatched up her duffel bag and made a dash for the bathroom, wanting to put herself to rights before Banner saw her—or any of the others, of course, she added quickly.

She took a very quick shower, using as little hot water as possible since there were so many others in the house. She was glad Banner had a gas water heater. She spent barely fifteen minutes in the bathroom, emerging with damp hair and a minimal amount of makeup, but she felt much better. At least her teeth were brushed and she had on fresh socks and underwear and a clean Christmas sweatshirt with the jeans she’d slept in.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she nearly tripped over the motley dog that sat in the hallway, apparently waiting for her. “Did you want the next shower?” she asked him wryly.

He gave her a goofy grin and a flick of his scraggly tail in reply, then followed at her heels as she made her way back into the living room. Someone had opened all the drapes while she’d been in the bathroom. It was still gray and cloudy outside, but at least some light came in through the large windows.

She paused to look outside at the frozen landscape. Ice covered everything as far as she could see, glittering like freshly polished glass. Beneath nearly every tree lay a pile of broken limbs, and the evergreens were bent almost double beneath the weight of the ice. It was like being inside a snow globe.

Christmas Eve, she mused. It certainly looked the part outside. But it didn’t feel right, not being with her family today.

Sighing, she turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Pop and Miss Annie sat at the table, both looking much more rested than they had the night before. Banner stood at the stove, skillfully flipping pancakes, while Bobby Ray served coffee for the older couple. Joan and the kids hadn’t yet made an appearance.

Bobby Ray and the Carters smiled when Lucy walked in. Banner didn’t, but he gave her a nod of greeting. “Pancakes?”

“Yes, please.”

He handed her an overfilled plate. “Syrup’s on the table.”

“Thank you.”

So much for little pleasantries like “good morning” or “did you sleep well?” She reminded herself that she’d been confident that seeing him again in daylight, in all his grumpy glory, would put last night’s silly fantasies right out of her mind.

So much for late-night confidence, she thought, studying the back of his gorgeous, grouchy head with a silent sigh.

The others welcomed her to the table. “Quite a night, wasn’t it?” Bobby Ray asked, setting a cup of stove-perked coffee in front of her.

Since the big trucker’s enthusiastic snoring was at least partly responsible for Lucy’s restless night, she gave him a crooked smile. “Yes, it was. Miss Annie, did you rest well?”

“Slept like a log,” the older woman replied. “I guess I was more tired than I’d thought. I didn’t even know the power went out until I woke up this morning.”

Bobby Ray stood at the back door, looking through the glass at the frozen vista on the other side of the narrow back porch. “I haven’t seen this much ice since the winter of ’99. Some folks went without power for days—weeks, even—back then.”

“Are the phone lines still working?” Lucy asked.

Bobby Ray nodded. “I’ve already called my boss this morning.”

“Did you get an update on the roads?”

“The temperatures today are predicted to be just above freezing. There could be some melting this afternoon, but any standing water will freeze again tonight. Though it’s supposed to be warmer tomorrow, it will be after noon, at the earliest, before it will be safe to travel.”

Lucy thought longingly of her aunt’s Christmas Eve open house—the crowds of friends and family, the food and drink, the carols and laughter. It would be the first time she had missed it since she was a child.

She was sure the others were just as anxious to be with their families today—all except Banner, she temporized with a glance across the room at him. What was his story, anyway? Was he estranged from his family? Or just, as he had claimed, in no mood for holiday travel?

“Maybe if we drive very slowly and carefully…” Pop began, his gaze on his wife’s disappointed expression.

“Don’t even think about it,” Bobby Ray said flatly. “I’ve been driving these roads for years and they’re dangerous enough when they’re wet. Add patches of ice and you’ve got a disaster waiting to happen. You saw me hit the ditch yesterday. First time I’ve done that in years.”

To Lucy’s relief, Pop didn’t argue. He merely nodded in resignation and patted his wife’s hand.

Before anyone else could speak, Joan and the children entered the room. It was obvious at a glance that Tricia had been crying. Her face was red and streaked with tears and her lower lip was still quivering. Tyler didn’t look much happier. His head hung and his shoulders drooped as he followed his mother into the kitchen. Joan tried to smile for the benefit of the other adults, but the smile didn’t reach her brown eyes.

It was a very unhappy trio, Lucy thought with a surge of sympathy. No child should look so sad on Christmas Eve.

Banner looked at the family, then reached again for the pancake batter. “There’s milk in the refrigerator. With the door closed, it stayed cool enough. We might as well drink it before it goes bad.”

“We put some of the perishable stuff outside in a big cooler,” Bobby Ray added. “It’ll probably stay cold enough out there to keep anything from ruining too quickly.”

Without saying a word, the children took their seats at the table. Tricia climbed onto the bar stool she’d sat on the night before. Their mother set plates of pancakes and glasses of milk in front of them, and they began to eat without enthusiasm.

Miss Annie studied the children compassionately. “Did you sleep well?” she asked them.

Both nodded without looking up from their breakfasts.

“Yes, thank you,” Tyler mumbled after a nudge from his mother.

“You both look like someone licked the red off your lollipops,” Bobby Ray commented.

Tyler heaved a deep sigh. “It’s Christmas,” he said, as if that should explain everything.

“That should make you smile, not frown,” Bobby Ray replied.

Tricia’s lip quivered again. “We were s’posed to go to Grandma’s. Santa was going to come there tonight. But Mama said we can’t go ’cause of the ice.”

“I still think we could make it,” Tyler insisted. “If Mama would drive real slow…”

“Now you sound like me,” Pop said ruefully. “The others have convinced me that it would be foolish to even try. Trust me, boy, it’s better to celebrate Christmas a day late than not to have the chance at all.”

“But there’s nothing to do here,” Tyler protested. “There’s not even any electricity, so we can’t watch TV or anything.”

“I don’t want to stay here for Christmas,” Tricia agreed in a whine. “I want to go to Grandma’s.”

Lucy saw Banner’s jaw clench as he took the seat next to Lucy with his own breakfast. Bobby Ray shifted uncomfortably in his chair, the Carters looked anxious, and Joan seemed apologetic for her children’s complaining. Unless someone did something very soon, it was going to be a very long day.

Electing herself to be that someone, Lucy donned a bright smile and addressed the children. “You know what I think we should do today?”

They looked at her without much interest. “What?” Tyler asked.

“Banner hasn’t gotten around to decorating for Christmas. He’s been too busy,” she added, deliberately not making eye contact with her host. “I think he would really like it if we all helped him decorate today.”

Tricia, for one, looked somewhat intrigued. “He would?”

“I would?” Banner murmured so that only Lucy could hear.

Lucy kept her gaze focused on the children. “Of course he would. It’s Christmas.”

“I, um, don’t have any Christmas decorations,” Banner said.

The children’s budding enthusiasm wilted visibly. Lucy spoke even more enthusiastically. “Okay, fine. We’ll just have to make some, won’t we? That will be even more fun, won’t it, kids?”

“I don’t know how,” Tricia said uncertainly.

“I’ll show you.” Lucy found the courage to look at Banner then. “You’d like us to decorate for you, wouldn’t you, Banner?”

“Yeah,” he said, trying to play his part. “Sure.”

His doubtful tone drew a look from her, but she turned quickly back to the kids. “We’ll get started as soon as we’ve finished breakfast, okay? It will be a lot of fun.”

Tyler and Tricia began to eat more enthusiastically, and Joan gave Lucy a smile of gratitude.

Banner, Lucy noted surreptitiously, simply looked resigned.

Chapter Four

When the children finished eating, they dashed off to brush their teeth while their mother and Lucy washed dishes in water heated on the stove. Bobby Ray and Banner assisted Miss Annie into the living room, where they settled her in the rocker in front of the fire with an afghan around her and her knitting close at hand. Pop sat on the couch with one of Banner’s recent newsmagazines.

Between the light from the windows and the glow of the fire, there was just enough illumination in the room for reading and knitting, though Banner offered to bring in an oil lamp if the light began to fade. Satisfied that the older couple was comfortable, Banner wandered back into the kitchen.

He leaned against the bar, watching Joan and Lucy efficiently clean his kitchen. Well, to be specific, he watched Lucy. His gaze was drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on anything else.

“Just what, exactly, do you intend to use for decorations?” he asked her curiously.

She tossed aside her dish towel and tapped a fingertip against her chin. “We’ll need a tree, of course…”

“A tree,” he repeated, hoping he had misunderstood.

“A Christmas tree,” she clarified, looking surprised that it had been necessary. “Do you have an artificial one, by any chance?”

“No, I don’t own one.”

She looked disappointed. “I suppose we could get by without a Christmas tree…”

Some insane impulse made him say, “I’ll find you a tree.”

Had he really volunteered to tromp around out there in the ice, cut down a tree and then figure out some way to stand it up in his house? Her sudden, radiant smile assured him that he had. Looking at that smile, he couldn’t even honestly say he regretted the words.

He wondered if maybe the milk had been spoiled, after all. He found it much easier to attribute his uncharacteristic behavior to bad milk than to the charms of a pretty Christmas elf’s smile.

“What kind of tree?” Bobby Ray asked, coming back into the room.

“They want a Christmas tree,” Banner answered.

“Not if it’s too much trouble,” Joan insisted, trying to shrink into the woodwork behind her.

Joan was such a mousy, unprepossessing woman, Banner thought. She couldn’t be less like Lucy, who was even now using her hands to describe to Bobby Ray exactly what sort of tree she envisioned for their holiday decorating.

The big trucker nodded, then looked at Banner. “You’ve got some small evergreens in the woods around your house, don’t you?”

“Yeah. It shouldn’t take long to find one. The hard part’s going to be finding one that isn’t covered with ice.”

“Maybe if there’s one that’s been sheltered by bigger trees…”

“So much trouble,” Joan fretted, wringing her hands.

“Not if it means making them kids happy for Christmas,” Bobby Ray assured her kindly.

Joan’s eyes welled. “That’s very kind.”

Both Banner and Bobby Ray took a few steps backward, discomfited by the sight of tears. “We’ll, uh, take care of the tree,” Banner said quickly, then turned to Lucy. “What else do you need for decorations?”

She tapped her chin again. “Popcorn, maybe, for stringing. Do you have any art supplies? Paper, glue, markers—that sort of thing?”

Banner turned on one heel. “I’ll see what I can gather up.”

“Thank you, Banner,” she called after him as he left the room.

It must have been the milk, he thought again with a slow shake of his head.

By midmorning Lucy had turned the living room into a Christmas workshop. Banner had provided a generous—and rather surprisingly varied—supply of materials. Colored papers, thin sheets of cardboard, markers, glue, large tubes of silver, red and gold glitter, several colors of ribbon, yarn and fabric scraps. There was also a shoebox filled with buttons of all different shapes, sizes and colors, and a couple of booklets of gold and silver star-shaped stickers.

“Craft supplies?” Lucy asked when he’d carried the big carton of items into the room.

He shrugged. “My great-uncle kept supplies here to entertain his friends’ children when they visited—kept the kids from getting into his tools. I used to play with the craft stuff, myself, when I was a kid. Always looked forward to it—until I got old enough to start working with his tools, which I liked even better. I found this carton in one of the storage closets after I moved in, and I thought it might come in handy someday.”

She gave him a grin. “Looks like it’s ‘someday.”’

“Apparently,” he agreed with that slight quirk of his lips that she had finally decided was a smile.

Now, warmed by the crackling fire, Joan and the children sat around the coffee table happily making paper chains and ornaments for the tree Banner and Bobby Ray had gone out to find. The dog snoozed beneath the round oak table, seeming to enjoy the company.

Miss Annie knitted contentedly in her rocker, while Pop strung popcorn on fishing line. His hands were a bit gnarled, but he handled the needle skillfully. “I’ve strung plenty of popcorn in my day,” he boasted. “Done my share of sewing, too.”

Lucy studied the scene with a touch of smugness. Very domestic. The children were laughing and the adults were all smiling. The appetizing scent of popcorn filled the room, and the flickering of the candles that lightened the shadowy corners added an old-world charm.

What a clever idea she’d had, she thought as she turned toward the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee. Now everyone was happy again.

She had just stepped into the room when the kitchen door flew open with a bang and Banner carried Bobby Ray into the house.

Of course, Banner wasn’t exactly carrying the much larger man, but he was obviously supporting him as Bobby Ray limped inside, a painful grimace behind his beard. Forgetting the coffee, Lucy rushed forward. “What happened? Bobby Ray, are you hurt?”

It was a stupid question, she realized as Banner lowered the other man into a chair. But Bobby Ray answered patiently. “I’m okay. Just took a spill on the ice, that’s all. Bruised, but no real damage.”

Having heard Lucy’s cry, Joan came in to see what was going on. She took one look at the men and hurried to the percolator. “You both look half-frozen.”

Banner and Bobby Ray had peeled off their hats and gloves, revealing faces reddened by cold and fingers that moved stiffly as they reached for the steaming mugs Joan offered them. Lucy bit her lower lip in guilt. She had been so focused on having a Christmas tree for the children that she hadn’t given enough thought to the dangers of trudging around on a sheet of ice.

She moved closer to Bobby Ray. “Are you sure nothing’s broken? Maybe I should look at your injury to see how bad it really is.”

Banner cleared his throat.

Bobby Ray gave a bark of laughter. “I don’t think so, Lucy. Truth is, my feet flew out from under me and I landed flat on my—” he glanced at Joan, then concluded “—on my behind. Just bruised my tailbone, that’s all. It’s sore as he—er, heck, but I’ll be all right.”

“You should at least take a pain reliever.”

Banner moved to the pantry, took out a plastic bottle of ibuprofen, and tossed it to Bobby Ray, who caught it in one big hand. Lucy noted that Banner’s expression was shuttered, so that she couldn’t read his thoughts. Which, she decided with a grimace, was probably just as well.

He caught her eyes as he moved toward the back door again. “I’ll go out and build a stand for the tree,” he said, handing her his empty mug when he passed her.

Setting the mug on the counter, she turned to follow Banner out onto the back porch, leaving Joan to see to Bobby Ray. The frigid air hit her like a hard kick, driving the breath from her lungs. It hung in a frosty cloud in front of her. She crossed her arms over her thick sweatshirt and shivered. “You found a tree?”

Pulling his hat back onto his head, Banner nodded. “A small cedar that managed to miss most of the ice because it was under several larger trees. It’s over by my workshop.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I can handle it. Looked as if you’re keeping things under control in there. Why don’t you go back inside? You don’t even have on a coat.”

“I feel guilty,” she admitted. “You’ve been out here in the cold and ice finding a tree you didn’t want in the first place while I’ve been in your warm house watching the kids make decorations you didn’t ask for. Bobby Ray got hurt and you—”

“Wait a minute.” He set his hands heavily on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “When those kids came into the kitchen this morning, they were the saddest sight I ever saw. Now they’re in there laughing and having a good time getting into the Christmas spirit, and all because you had the clever idea to have them make decorations. There’s no reason at all for you to feel guilty.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “But Bobby Ray—”

“Bobby Ray bruised his butt,” Banner interrupted inelegantly. “I saw him fall, and I’m confident he’ll be fine. Just sore. And I’m sure he would risk falling again if it meant making the kids happy. He told me he hated seeing them so sad.”

Banner’s reassurances made her feel better. Though she was self-conscious about standing so close to him and having his hands on her, she found herself in no hurry to move away.

“If it hadn’t been for you,” he went on, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with everyone today. The kids would probably be whining and crying and bringing everyone else down, and it would have been miserable. Believe me, you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

That statement made her laugh. “Trust me, that’s one thing I have figured out about you.”

His gaze dropped slowly to her smiling mouth, then lingered there. She felt her smile fade in response to his expression. They stood so close together their breath mingled into a single hazy cloud—and there was something uncomfortably intimate about that observation.

“You’re cold,” Banner said after a moment. “You should go back inside.”

Cold? Funny, at that moment, he wasn’t at all aware of the cold. She actually felt a bit warm in some places.

But the shiver that ran through her wasn’t entirely due to sexual awareness. Reluctantly she took a step backward, and Banner’s hands fell to his sides. Suddenly she felt the cold again. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

He nodded, stuck his hands in his coat pockets, turned and headed toward his workshop, placing his feet with care on the icy path. Lucy watched him for a moment longer, until the cold drove her back inside.

* * *

While the others stayed busy making decorations, Lucy and Joan went into the kitchen at just before one that afternoon to prepare lunch. Even from in there, they could hear the slightly off-key strains of “Jingle Bells” being sung in the living room.

Pop, they had discovered, loved to sing, and he particularly loved to sing Christmas carols. Bobby Ray had pulled out a battered old guitar he claimed was never far from his side; he hadn’t left it in the truck because he said the damp cold was bad for the wood and the strings. Pop and Bobby Ray had been leading the children in familiar holiday tunes for the past half hour.

“Pop’s a sweet man, isn’t he?” Joan asked Lucy as they opened the pantry door. “He reminds me of my grandfather.”

Lucy smiled. “That’s what Bobby Ray said.”

Joan bit her lip. “Did he?”

“Yes. Bobby Ray’s nice, too. Very funny, and so kind to Miss Annie and the kids. Although he snores like a freight train and can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” she added with a chuckle. “But he does play the guitar well.”

“He does seem nice,” Joan agreed hesitantly. “I have to admit I was a bit intimidated by him at first. He’s so large and hairy.”

“Rather like Banner’s dog,” Lucy murmured.

Joan smiled a little. “Bobby Ray’s louder. I haven’t heard the dog so much as yip since we got here.”

“He snores almost as loudly as Bobby Ray.”

The other woman laughed, then looked into the pantry again. “Poor Banner’s getting low on supplies. We’ll all have to chip in for groceries before we leave.”

“Definitely.” But Lucy wondered if he would accept any money from them. Banner seemed to be the fiercely proud and independent type. “We could make sandwiches with chips and pickles on the side. I saw some lunch meat out in the cooler. It should probably be used soon.”

“Sandwiches sound fine.”

Lucy stepped out onto the porch, glancing toward the workshop as she did so. The doors were closed, but a thin plume of smoke rose from a small chimney in the roof, indicating a woodstove of some sort. She wondered if it was really taking Banner this long to craft a simple stand for the tree or if he was busying himself in his workshop to avoid entertaining his guests. She suspected the latter.

It was probably just as well that he was staying away, she decided. She was getting much too intrigued by that man. And with her tendency to tumble into trouble, she was likely to do something stupid if she spent much more time with him—especially as close as she had been to him on this porch earlier, she thought with a touch of pensiveness.

If she had ever seen a heartache waiting to happen, it was Banner—a man so private and reserved that he had only shared one name with her.

She carried the lunch meat back inside, closing the back door on the sight of Banner’s workshop.

Working in comfortable unison, Lucy and Joan assembled the ingredients for sandwiches. Lucy’s curiosity about Joan was growing, and she had never been very successful at reining in her curiosity. She would, however, try to be as tactful as possible with her prying.

“Your children are very well behaved,” she began. “Considering everything, they’ve been real troupers today.”

Joan’s brown eyes brightened in response to the compliment. “Thank you. I really appreciate everything you all have done to entertain them.”

Lucy shrugged. “It keeps us entertained, too. Are you a single mom?”

She had tried to slip the question in casually, but subtlety had never been one of Lucy’s talents. Joan stiffened a bit. “Yes,” she replied after a moment. “I’m divorced. The kids haven’t seen their father in several years.”

“You’re doing a wonderful job with them.”

“I do my best.”

It couldn’t be easy raising two children alone, Lucy mused. Which was why a solemn respect for the responsibilities of fatherhood was high on her list of husband qualifications. Lucy definitely wanted children, and it was her intention to provide those children with a good father.

“Have you ever been married?” Joan asked, turning the questioning around.

“No, but I’m looking,” Lucy replied cheerfully.

“Um, you are?”

“Yep. I’ve been on more blind dates than I can count during the past year. None of them has led to anything promising, but I haven’t given up.”

“So you really are looking.”

“Oh, yes. I concentrated on establishing my career first, but now I’m ready to establish a family. I’ll be twenty-eight in a few months.”

“I was married at twenty-three,” Joan confided as she spread mustard on a slice of wheat bread. “Three years later we were on the verge of a breakup when I found out I was pregnant with Tyler. We struggled along for another couple of years, but Roger left while I was pregnant with Tricia. He said he couldn’t handle the pressure of a wife and two children.”

What a jerk. Keeping that thought to herself, Lucy said only, “I’m sorry.”

Joan shrugged. “It was all for the best, I suppose. The kids and I have gotten along fine without him.”

More determined than ever to make sure Tyler and Tricia had a nice Christmas, Lucy asked, “Do you have their Christmas gifts in your car?”

“Yes, hidden in the trunk. Why?”

Lucy glanced quickly toward the doorway. She could hear Pop and the children singing “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” in the living room, so she felt safe enough saying, “Would you like for Santa Claus to stop here for them tonight? We have a tree—and the rest of us could help you.”

Joan turned to face her, obviously intrigued by the suggestion. “I had thought I’d just wait until we reached my mother’s house, but maybe—”

“Wouldn’t they get a kick out of waking up tomorrow morning to discover that Santa found them after all?”

Joan’s smile turned tremulous in anticipation. “They would be thrilled.”

“Then let’s do it.”

Joan nodded. “It’s a deal.”

Lucy called Banner in from his workshop for lunch, which they ate around the dining room table. Bobby Ray was moving more easily now, the pain reliever having done its job, and everyone seemed to be in good spirits.

After lunch Banner carried in the six-foot-tall cedar he and Bobby Ray had found earlier. Banner had nailed a wooden stand to the bottom of the tree, which he set in one corner of the living room.

“We don’t have any twinkle lights,” Tricia said, studying the bare branches.

Her brother gave a long-suffering sigh. “We don’t have any electricity, dopey-head. The lights wouldn’t work even if we had some.”

“I’m not a dopey-head,” Tricia protested, lower lip protruding.

“Are, too.”

“Am not!”

Joan interceded quickly. “It’s Christmas Eve, kids. Don’t forget who might be listening.”

They fell silent immediately. Tricia looked around as if searching for hidden Santa listening devices. Joan and Lucy exchanged conspiratorial smiles.

Joan helped the children drape strung popcorn and paper chains around the tree. A stack of imaginative paper-glitter-button-and-ribbon ornaments waited to be hung from the branches. Pop, Miss Annie and Bobby Ray watched indulgently, offering occasional suggestions.

Lucy remembered seeing a box of cocoa in the pantry. She leaned toward Banner. “Would you mind if I make hot chocolate?”

He made a sweeping gesture toward the kitchen. “Mi casa es su casa. At least until the ice melts.”

She gave him a sympathetic smile and patted his arm. “You’re a very gracious host.”

“I’ll be even more gracious,” he countered. “I’ll help you make the cocoa.”

“You’re just trying to avoid decorating.”

He smiled, a very brief flash of white teeth against his tanned face. “You’ve got that right.”

She very nearly melted into a puddle right there at his feet. All it took was a tiny little smile, she thought in bemusement. Amazing…

He took her elbow and led her into the kitchen. By the time they’d reached the pantry, Lucy had herself under control again. Mostly.

“Well, it’s almost three o’clock,” Banner said, handing her the cocoa and sugar. “It should take an hour—at most—to decorate the tree. Then what?”

“Then…we’ll do something else,” she said with a shrug. “Games or stories or anything to keep the kids entertained until bedtime.”

She cast a quick, furtive glance toward the doorway, making sure neither of the children was within hearing range. “Joan and I were talking earlier. She has the children’s Christmas presents in the trunk of her car. We were thinking maybe Santa Claus could visit here tonight so they would have gifts under the tree on Christmas morning.”

He nodded. “What do you want me to do?”

She giggled in response to his stoically resigned expression. “What makes you think I want you to do anything?”

“Experience,” he answered dryly.

She laughed again. “Poor Banner.”

Without responding, he stepped out onto the back porch to retrieve the milk from the big cooler. “There’s some melting going on,” he commented when he came back in with the milk. “The thermometer on the porch reads a few degrees above freezing.”

“Great. Maybe we’ll be able to get out of your hair tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll be glad to have your house to yourself again.”

He didn’t answer, but crossed his arms over his chest and leaned one hip against the bar. “So what do you need me to do to help with Joan’s kids?”

“I don’t suppose you would put on a Santa suit?”

“Not even if my life depended on it,” he answered evenly.

“That’s pretty much what I thought,” she said, amused. “So, how about if you get the gifts out of Joan’s trunk before it’s dark and stash them somewhere close until after the kids are asleep?”

“That I will do.”

She sighed. “I appreciate it, of course, but I would have dearly loved to see you in a Santa suit.”

He reached around her to turn down the heat beneath the bubbling cocoa. His arm brushed against her with the movement, sending a jolt of awareness through her.

“Is this some sort of kinky fetish thing?” he asked in a murmur. For a moment she couldn’t think what he was talking about, since his touch seemed to have temporarily emptied her mind.

When she realized that he was displaying yet another example of his quirky humor, she managed a smile. “I’ve always had a thing for Santa Claus.”

“Must be hard for your other boyfriends to compete.”

She took the pan of steaming cocoa off the heat, setting it on a cool burner. “So far, no one’s been able to.”

“So what would it take?”

She could feeling him watching as she ladled the hot beverage into mugs. He wasn’t an easy man to banter with—if that’s what they were doing. He was too serious, too intense. And his humor was unpredictable, to say the least.

Still, she gave it a try. “He’d have to be generous, of course.”

Banner’s left eyebrow rose. “Opening his home to stranded holiday travelers, for example?”

“Um, yeah, something like that.” She kept her gaze focused on the ladle as she reminded herself yet again that he couldn’t be taken too seriously.

“What else?”

She cleared her throat. “He should be resourceful. A good provider.”

Banner reached into the pantry and produced a bag of marshmallows for topping the hot cocoa. “How did you like the tree I found?” he asked as he handed her the bag.

Was he really comparing himself to Santa Claus? She plopped a couple of marshmallows into a mug. “It’s a lovely tree.”

He was standing rather close to her now, his arm making contact with hers again as he set one of the filled mugs on a big tray. “So what else would a guy have to do to compete with Santa for your affections?”

“He would have to be jolly, of course.”

Banner had been reaching for another mug. His hand went still. “Jolly?”

“Jolly,” she repeated firmly.

Thoughtfully he finished transferring the mugs to the tray. “I don’t suppose you would settle for two out of three?”

She smiled at him then, a bit more confident, now that she had decided he really was teasing, in his odd way. “I never settle.”

He heaved a somber sigh. “That’s what I suspected.”

Balancing the tray with the skill of a seasoned waiter, he nodded toward the living room. “Let’s go check on the progress of the tree.”

She would have liked to remain behind for a moment, just to savor the pleasure of that unexpectedly lighthearted exchange, but he was obviously waiting for her to precede him. Keeping her smile firmly in place, she walked into the living room, knowing the past few minutes would replay themselves plenty of times in her mind.

Chapter Five

Borrowing the keys from Joan, Banner slipped out to her car later that afternoon to retrieve the large plastic bags she had described to him. Stuffed into her trunk, the black drawstring-topped bags held wrapped presents for the children. There were other presents in the trunk, but Joan had instructed him to leave those, since they were for other members of her family.

He hauled the bags to his workshop. It was becoming somewhat easier to walk as the ice slowly melted. Still slippery, though, he mused, placing his boots carefully as he carried the bags to his workshop. The ground had pretty much turned to mud beneath the ice.

Glancing toward the road, he noted several large exposed patches, but no longer frozen asphalt. Ice covered the road in the shaded areas, making travel extremely hazardous, but he’d bet it would be navigable by tomorrow afternoon. His guests would be on their way, which was good for them since he knew they were anxious to be with their families.

The house was going to seem quiet after they left, he thought. It was usually the way he preferred things, but he had to admit—rather to his own surprise—that he had sort of enjoyed the last few hours. Thanks to Lucy, he added thoughtfully. Of all his guests, he knew she was the one who would linger in his thoughts after everyone was gone.

Half an hour later he was still puttering in his workshop when the door opened and a head poked in. Lucy’s head, to be specific.

“Banner?” she said. “May I come in?”

He was working at a table he’d pulled close to a back window for light. “Sure,” he said, setting down the sanding block he’d been holding. “Come in.”

She had donned her warm black parka over her Christmas sweatshirt and jeans, he noted. Black leather gloves covered her hands, and the green knit hat perched on her riotous red curls made her look more like a Christmas elf than ever. Her sparkling green eyes and rosy cheeks only added to the image. But that sexy full mouth…his gaze lingered there for a moment as he wondered just how those perfect lips would taste.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I was curious to see where you create that beautiful furniture.”

Roused from his inappropriate thoughts by her words, he nodded and swept a hand around in invitation. “This is it.”

Standing in the center of the drained concrete floor, she turned slowly in a circle to study the rows of power tools on wheeled stands, the long workbenches above which hung cabinets filled with hand tools and materials, and the neat stacks of wood in racks against the far wall. A wood-stove sat in one corner, keeping the temperature comfortable. Banner preferred central heat when the electricity was on, but since he lived in a rural area where power outages were fairly common, he’d left his great-uncle’s old stove in place.

Lucy paused to admire a couple of rockers and Adirondack chairs in various stages of completion, and then she wandered over to his table, studying the items he had been working on. Her eyes lit up. “Are these for Tyler and Tricia?”

A bit self-consciously he shrugged. “Do you think they would like them?”

Lucy beamed at him. “Of course they will. They’re lovely gifts.”

She ran a gloved hand over the smooth footboard of a doll-size Shaker cradle. He had built the cradle out of pine and had stained and buffed it to a rich golden glow. Sitting beside the cradle was an eight-inch-high semi cab, hooked to a foot-long trailer that hauled a detailed backhoe tractor, all crafted of oak and finished to a matte sheen.

The truck-and-backhoe rig represented quite a few hours of work. It was a project Banner had made of scrap wood after seeing the pattern in a woodworkers magazine. He hadn’t made it for anyone in particular, but because the project had appealed to him at the time.

The cradle was left over from a batch he’d made to sell in a Branson craft store. It had lacked only a final light sanding with very fine sandpaper, which he had just completed. He would go over it again with tack cloth to collect dust, and the cradle would be ready for play.

Even before he had known that Lucy and Joan were planning a visit from Santa, he had decided to give these toys to Tyler and Tricia. It just seemed to him that kids needed a little extra attention at Christmas. Lucy had come up with the arts and crafts projects, while Pop and Bobby Ray had entertained with music and funny stories. Working with wood was Banner’s only talent.

“The detail on this rig is amazing,” Lucy marveled, lifting the jointed front-end loader and backhoe with the attached side levers. “I can’t imagine how much time went into this.”

“I don’t watch a lot of TV, and I don’t socialize much,” he replied, pleased by her compliments. “Working with wood helps me pass the time. This was a pattern I wanted to try just for the heck of it. I didn’t know what I was going to do with it, but I’d like to give it to Tyler, if you think he would like it.”

“What boy wouldn’t like it? And what little girl wouldn’t love this cradle? Of course,” Lucy added, “I suppose I’m being sexist. Tricia will probably enjoy playing with the truck and tractor, too, and Tyler might very well have a favorite stuffed toy or doll that he would enjoy putting to bed in the cradle.”

“So which did you prefer when you were a little girl? Dolls or trucks?”

“I played with trucks,” she replied, then wrinkled her nose in what he considered to be an adorable expression. “But I really loved my baby dolls.”

“I can tell by watching you with Tyler and Tricia that you like kids.”

“I love children. I’d like to have at least two of my own—once I find that Santa Claus substitute to father them,” she added with a laugh.

Banner couldn’t imagine that it would be difficult for Lucy to find someone willing to fill that role. She certainly seemed to have a great deal to offer a man who was interested in marriage and kids. Which didn’t include him, of course.

He had tried the marriage thing, and it had been an abysmal failure—something he should have predicted from the start. Considering his history with relationships, he had no desire to risk making a fool of himself like that again.

Not that Lucy would be interested even if he was, he assured himself. After all, she was looking for a frigging jolly Santa Claus.

“What’s that expression?” Lucy asked him suddenly, studying him with her head cocked curiously to one side. “You’re frowning as if someone just stomped on your ingrown toenail.”

That comment changed his frown to a slight smile. “I don’t have an ingrown toenail.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“No problem. I was just wondering if I should ask Joan’s permission before giving her kids gifts.”

“She’ll probably be delighted.”

“Still, it might be best for me to clear it with her first.”

Lucy had wandered back over to the rocking chairs. Banner had noticed that she wasn’t the type to stay in one spot for very long.

“These are beautiful. You’re so talented. Have you always been a professional woodworker?”

“I’ve had other jobs but nothing I liked this much. When my great-uncle left me this place, I was able to take over the business he had started. He’s the one who taught me everything I know about working with wood.”

“It sounds as though you were very close to him.”

“I was,” he answered with the familiar lump that always came into his throat when he thought of his uncle Joe. He still missed the old coot.

Lucy sat in the one finished rocker and began to rock, sliding her gloved hands appreciatively over the armrests.

“Are your parents still living?”

“Yes.”

“Where do they live?”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Just curious.”

He doubted that her curiosity would be satisfied with a simple answer, so he gave her the expanded version. “My father and his wife live in Nashville, Tennessee. They have a daughter who is finishing medical school at Vanderbilt and a son who’s in his first year of law school. My mother and her husband live in Lexington, Kentucky, close to their two grown daughters. Both the girls are married, and they each have one child.”

She had followed his family details attentively, and he had no doubt that she could quote it all back to him. Lucy was definitely a “people person”—someone who was actively interested in other people’s lives and opinions. Again, unlike himself.

“Your siblings aren’t much younger than you,” she commented. “Your parents must have divorced when you were very young.”

He reached out to idly roll the truck back and forth with one finger. “My parents were never married. They split up before I was a year old.”

If that shocked her, she didn’t let it show. “Did you live with your mother?”

“Part of the time with my mother, part of the time with my paternal grandparents here in northern Arkansas. This is where I preferred to be because my great-uncle was here. He never married and he had no kids, so he and I sort of bonded.”

She was studying his face a bit too closely now, obviously trying to read his emotions. Long accustomed to keeping his feelings hidden, he wasn’t concerned that she would see more than he wanted to reveal.

“Did you see your father very much?” she asked.

“I spent the occasional weekend and holiday with him and his family. We get along fine, just don’t have much in common.”

Lucy rocked a bit faster, which Banner figured was a clue to the questions racing through her mind. “Didn’t you want to spend the holidays with family? Didn’t your parents want to see you?”

He shrugged. “My parents have plenty of family around for the holidays. They both invited me, but I wasn’t in the mood this year. I have a furniture order to finish, and I had a hunch the weather was going to be bad. Besides, they tend to get their noses out of joint when I choose one over the other.”

“They fight over you?”

“They compete for me,” he replied. “Not quite the same thing. Truth is, neither one particularly cares whether I join them as long as I don’t choose the other one, instead.”

Okay, that was more than he had intended to say. He blamed the slip on his preoccupation with how fetching Lucy looked sitting in his rocking chair with her sexy mouth, rosy cheeks and silly green hat.

Her pretty mouth immediately formed into a sympathetic frown. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I tend to ask too many questions sometimes. I didn’t mean to pry—”

He shrugged. “It’s okay. I can understand why you’d be curious about why a guy with so much family would choose to spend Christmas alone with his dog. Especially when you were willing to risk life and limb in an ice storm to get to your family.”

“I don’t get to see my father very often. He travels a lot in his job with the army, even though he’s officially stationed in Texas. Christmas is the one time he makes a determined effort to get home. My aunt and uncle are like my second parents, and my cousins are as close as I have to siblings. I’m crazy about all of them.”

Banner would be willing to bet they all felt the same way about her.

She hopped suddenly out of the chair and headed toward the door. “I’d better go see how everything is going inside. Last I looked your whole living room was being decorated.”

Banner was almost surprised to realize that it didn’t particularly bother him to hear that.

The children were pleasantly tired by late afternoon. Tricia fell asleep on the floor beneath the lavishly decorated Christmas tree. Tyler was on his stomach on the rug in front of the fire beside Banner’s dog. An open comic book lay in front of them, and it looked for all the world as if both boy and dog were enjoying the pictures.

Joan was reading a paperback in a chair beside the window. Having napped for a short while after lunch, Miss Annie had returned to her rocker and her knitting, her long needles clicking industriously. Pop and Bobby Ray sat on the couch engaged in a low-voiced conversation that seemed to consist mostly of tall tales about hunting and fishing.

Lucy was curled up in Banner’s big recliner, her sock-clad feet beneath her and a book lying open and unread in her lap. It was a lazy, cozy scene, and she could appreciate the peacefulness of it, but it bothered her that their host was outside alone while his guests enjoyed each other’s company.

She thought about the things he had told her of his childhood—okay, the things she had pried out of him, she amended sheepishly. She had left him rather abruptly because so many more questions had been bubbling inside her that she had been afraid she would offend him with her nosiness if she didn’t hush.

Still, she couldn’t help considering everything she had learned about him and reflecting on how his childhood experiences had molded him. He didn’t remember his parents as a couple, but both parents had married and started new families while Banner was quite young. He had spent his time being shuttled between his mother and his paternal grandparents, bonding most closely with a great-uncle who had never married.

Had Banner felt like the odd man out in his parents’ homes? Their youthful mistake, perhaps? Was that why he always seemed to be off to one side of a room, watching others interact?

She wondered how he got along with his stepparents. Had they accepted him, made him feel welcome in their homes, or had they seen him as an intrusion? Perhaps his stepmother had felt that way, which might explain why he seemed to have spent so little time in his father’s home. The occasional weekend and holiday was the way Banner had described his time there.

Not that any of this was Lucy’s business, of course. She doubted that he would appreciate knowing she was sitting here engaged in armchair analysis of him. She just couldn’t seem to help it. The man simply fascinated her.

As if he had heard her thinking of him, Banner appeared in the doorway of the living room. He entered silently, his gaze skimming the room and settling on Lucy.

He had left his wet boots behind, and his feet in their thick wool socks made no sound on the hardwood floor as he approached the recliner. “Quiet in here,” he said, pausing at Lucy’s side.

She smiled and nodded. “I think the children wore themselves out. How do you like your Christmas decorations?”

He looked around the room again, and she tried to see it from his point of view. The cedar tree in the corner was very festive now with its strings of popcorn and chains of colored paper. Glitter-and marker-colored paper ornaments cut out in shapes of snowflakes, stars, bells, angels and gingerbread men dangled from the branches on strips of ribbon.

More paper chains draped the mantel, and glittery paper stars had been scattered randomly around the room. Along with the firelight and the candles burning in shadowy corners, the handmade decorations were reminiscent of an old-fashioned Christmas.

“They made a lot of ornaments,” Banner commented.

“They really got into it,” she answered with a smile. “I think they depleted your craft supplies.”

“That’s what the supplies were here for.”

“We turned the radio on for a little while—we didn’t want to run down the batteries too quickly. The latest weather report said that temperatures are expected to remain above freezing tonight—just barely—and to rise into the midforties tomorrow. Some roads are already clearing, and crews are working around the clock to restore power.”

“Sounds like a promising report.”

“Bobby Ray’s boss is sending a wrecker tomorrow to get the truck back on the road. And Pop’s grandsons are planning to come tomorrow afternoon. One of them will drive Pop’s truck to Harrison. Even though Pop insisted he was perfectly capable of driving himself,” she added in a low voice with a glance at the elderly man. “Apparently, his grandsons wouldn’t hear of it.”

“Good for them. I’ll feel better if he doesn’t head out on his own without someone to help him in case of trouble.” “So will I.”

“What about you?” Banner’s gaze was focused on the flames in the fireplace as he spoke casually. “Are you heading out first thing tomorrow?”

“I’ll wait until everyone else leaves, if you like. Just to help everyone get underway.”

“Yes, that would be helpful.”

She had been careful not to suggest a personal reason for lingering, and she heard no particular expression in Banner’s voice. She shouldn’t feel as if there was some significance to their agreement that she would be the last to leave. So why did she feel that way?

She glanced at her watch to distract herself from that line of thought. “It’s almost five. I suppose we should be thinking of something to feed everyone.”

“I put a lasagna in the oven. It will be ready to serve by six.”

Lucy looked at Banner in surprise. She hadn’t even realized he’d been in the kitchen prior to joining her in the living room. She knew he hadn’t been in there long enough to assemble lasagna. “How—”

“It was in the freezer. I make two at a time when I’m in the mood to cook, and I freeze one for later. It should be enough to feed everyone, along with a couple of side dishes. I usually eat leftovers for two or three days.”

“You’re a very resourceful man, aren’t you?”

He gave a quiet chuckle. “I try to be.”

Oh, gosh, she was starting to like him, entirely too much. The darned man seemed to be weaseling his way onto her prospect list—even though he absolutely did not belong there. And certainly wouldn’t want to be there, she added glumly.

Candles provided light for the lasagna dinner Banner had prepared. Having grown more comfortable with each other as the day passed, the travelers laughed and bantered during the meal. A newcomer might have thought they had known each other for ages, Lucy thought with a smile.

Though Banner didn’t contribute much to the conversation, he seemed to enjoy listening. Lucy was getting the distinct impression that he wasn’t quite the crusty recluse he pretended to be. She suspected that there was more to his story than a history of being the family misfit. What was he really hiding from here in his rural lair? And, yes, she was being nosy again, but it was Banner’s fault for being so mysterious, she reasoned.

Before the meal was over, something else claimed her attention, something that was no more her business than Banner’s secrets. But she couldn’t help noticing that Bobby Ray was spending a lot of time watching Joan across the table. His expression made Lucy wonder if the big trucker had become attracted to Joan.

It was an interesting possibility. Lucy wondered if Joan was aware of it, and if so, how she felt about it. Something told her that Joan didn’t have a clue. As far as Lucy could tell, Joan had absolutely no vanity. And since she had admitted to Lucy that she was a bit intimidated by Bobby Ray, Joan probably never considered that he might be interested in her.

Lucy didn’t consider herself the meddlesome type. But there was no reason they shouldn’t all get to know each other better, was there? Wasn’t that what casual conversation was all about?

“You haven’t told us much about yourself, Bobby Ray,” she began, stabbing her fork into a bite of lasagna. “Are you originally from Little Rock?”

“I grew up in Prescott,” the trucker replied obligingly. “Moved to Little Rock about fifteen years ago to be closer to my wife’s family.”

Oops.

“Your wife?” Lucy repeated.

He nodded. “Andrea. She died five years ago of melanoma. She had just turned thirty-two.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lucy said, and the sentiment was echoed in the faces of their dining companions.

“You would have liked her,” Bobby Ray assured Lucy. “She was a pistol. You remind me of her, in a way.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a smile.

“It was meant as one.”

Lucy noticed that Joan was looking down at her plate now, though Lucy would bet Joan was paying close attention to the conversation. “You and Andrea didn’t have any children?”

Bobby Ray shook his head, his eyes dimming a bit. “We were never blessed with any. We both loved kids and would’ve liked a houseful if we could’ve had ’em.”

“Children are a blessing,” Pop agreed. “Mother and I raised four of our own and more than a few that we took in along the way. I’m not saying we never had our troubles with any of them, but the good times made up for the bad ones, didn’t they, Mother?”

“Oh, yes, they did,” she concurred. “Hardest part was when we lost our oldest boy in a car accident twenty years ago. We learned then to cherish the moments we have with our loved ones and to never take each other for granted.”

“That’s the way I’ve always felt,” Lucy said. “Probably because I lost my mother when I was young, I’ve always treasured my other family members. Even when my cousins made me so mad I could punch them—and I tried once or twice,” she added with a laugh.

Tricia wanted to contribute to the discussion. “My brother makes me mad sometimes. He calls me dopey-head, and he hides my dolls.”

“Well, you broke my model airplane,” Tyler retorted heatedly, always game for a squabble. “And you are a dopey-head.”

“Am not!”

“Are, too.”

Joan cleared her throat, and both children fell into silence, turning their attention quickly back to their dinners.

Bobby Ray laughed. “That’s the same sort of sound my own mama used to make when I was acting up. She didn’t have to say a word, just gave my brother and me a look, and we knew we were in for it. That little bitty woman could sure swing a mean hickory switch.”

Tricia’s eyes rounded. “What’s a hickory switch?”

“A little bit of history, missy,” Bobby Ray answered with a chuckle. “It’s been replaced with other methods now, but it surely was effective in its time.”

Pop grinned. “I can testify to that. My grandma was the switch swinger in my family, and we learned right quick not to get on her bad side.”

“My teacher gives us frowny-face stickers if we’re bad,” Tricia said, still eager for attention. “Three frowny faces means we can’t go out to recess. I’ve only had one frowny face all year,” she bragged, “and that was because Kevin Perkins pinched me and made me yell at him when we were supposed to be listening to a story.”

Lucy couldn’t help smiling at the little girl’s disgruntled expression. “Kevin Perkins sounds like a brat.”

“He’s okay,” Tricia said. “I told him to be nice to me and he could be one of my boyfriends, so now he doesn’t pinch me anymore.”

That made the adults laugh, except for Joan, who groaned and shook her head.

“Looks like you’re going to have your hands full with this one,” Bobby Ray told Joan sympathetically. “Going to have to beat the boys away with a stick.”

“Maybe I should find a hickory switch, after all,” Joan agreed.

When Joan and Bobby Ray shared a smile, Lucy silently congratulated herself for getting the conversation started. Who knew where this could lead? Bobby Ray and Joan both seemed like nice people. Bobby Ray loved children, and Joan had two who needed a father figure in their lives. It seemed like a great match to Lucy, who had always had better luck matching up her friends than herself.

Maybe she could drop a few hints in Joan’s direction when they were alone again….

She happened to glance toward Banner right then. He was sitting next to her, looking at her in a way that made her wonder if he had guessed what she was thinking. Was that disapproval or merely curiosity she saw in his eyes before he masked his expression and looked back down at his plate?

“Perhaps you’ll play your guitar for us again after dinner,” Miss Annie suggested to Bobby Ray. “You play beautifully. Doesn’t he, Joan?”

Joan looked a bit surprised, but nodded agreeably. “Yes. I enjoyed listening earlier.”

Lucy smiled brightly at Miss Annie, sensing a compatriot. “We’ll all look forward to hearing him again.”

Bobby Ray looked almost shy when he promised that he would play whatever they would like to hear. Lucy was amused to see the faintest tint of pink beneath his bushy beard.

Knowing it took a bit more persistence to get Joan to talk about herself, Lucy turned her attention to the other woman. “You said you live in Mayflower, Joan. Do you work there?”

“No, I work at a bank in Conway. It’s less than fifteen miles from my house, so I don’t have far to commute.”

“My mom’s a loan officer.” Tricia looked proud of herself for knowing the title.

“Think she could lend me a dollar?” Bobby Ray asked with a grin.

Tricia nodded seriously. “But you would have to pay her back.”

“With interest,” Tyler added, proving that he, too, was knowledgeable about his mother’s career. “Like seventy-five cents, maybe.”

“Whew, that’s high interest,” Bobby Ray said, grinning at Joan.

She smiled tentatively back at him. “The rates aren’t quite that high.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Probably uncomfortable at being the center of attention, Joan turned to Lucy. “I don’t think you’ve told us what you do, Lucy.”

“I’m an assistant professor of mathematics at the University of Central Arkansas in Conway. I just finished my first semester there, and I enjoyed it immensely.”

For some reason everyone at the table, with the exception of the children, perhaps, looked surprised by her reply.

“You’re a math professor?” Bobby Ray asked after a moment. “You seem awfully young for that.”

“I’ll be twenty-eight soon. I was always in a hurry to finish the next stage of my education, so I earned my bachelor’s degree by the time I was twenty and my Ph. D. when I was twenty-five. This is what I was anxious to do—teach in a university setting.”

“You’re a doctor!” Miss Annie said. “Isn’t that something.”

“You must have students who aren’t much younger than you are,” Pop commented.

“I have several who are older than I am,” Lucy replied. She glanced at Banner, who was studying her closely again, and she couldn’t begin to read his thoughts.

She didn’t think her profession merited quite the amazement the others had shown, but she did wonder if he was as surprised as they were. She was used to people being startled upon hearing her profession, of course. She knew she looked younger than she was, and she was aware that she didn’t fit any particular stereotypes of a mathematician or a professor.

As far as she was concerned, her career was no different than truck driver or loan officer or woodworker—she had simply found a way to support herself doing something she enjoyed.

So what did Banner think about her career? And why should it matter to her, anyway?

She started to say something to him—she wasn’t sure what it would have been—but he turned away, reaching for Tricia’s empty plate, which he stacked with his own. “Anyone want dessert?” he asked. “The ice cream is melted, I’m afraid, but I have some thaw-and-serve carrot cake that should be ready to eat.”

“I like carrot cake,” Tricia told him eagerly. “Can I have the little frosting carrot on the top?”

“Tricia,” her long-suffering mother admonished. “Take what you are served.”

Bobby Ray was chuckling again, Lucy noted in satisfaction. He seemed quite taken with the kids, which boded well for Lucy’s matchmaking scheme.

If only there was someone as interesting to go on her prospect list, she thought with a silent sigh. And then found her eyes turning to Banner again as he served a slice of carrot cake topped with a bright orange frosting carrot to little Tricia.

Chapter Six

As promised, Bobby Ray played his guitar again after dinner. Miss Annie was back in the rocker and Pop was in the big recliner now. Bobby Ray sat on one end of the couch with Joan at the other end. The children and the dog were on the floor in front of the fire.

Lucy sat in the striped wing chair. She’d half expected Banner to pull his dining room chair close to her side, as he had before, but instead he’d placed it just inside the doorway, where he could watch without really being a part of the group.

She tried a time or two to catch his eye, to share a smile, but he seemed to avoid looking at her. Or was she simply imagining that? She couldn’t think of anything she might have done to annoy him.

The evening passed slowly, but pleasantly. Pop sang for them again, urging the children to join him. Miss Annie asked if anyone would like to hear her read the Christmas story from her battered, well-used Bible. “I used to read it every Christmas Eve for my children,” she added with a nostalgic sigh. “I would’ve read it for my great-grandchildren tonight.”

Everyone, of course, assured her that they would be delighted to have her read to them. She held the Bible close to her faded eyes, and her hands shook a bit, but her voice was strong as she began, “And it came to pass…”

Lucy had a lump in her throat by the time the elderly woman finished the reading. She saw Joan surreptitiously wipe a tear. Even the children had been spellbound. Bobby Ray cleared his throat, and Pop leaned over to kiss his wife’s cheek, which only made the lump in Lucy’s throat grow bigger.

From her sprawled position on the floor, Tricia sighed. “That was pretty, Miss Annie.”

“Thank you, sugar pie.”

“Do you have a book with ‘The Night Before Christmas’ in it? My grandmother promised to read that to me tonight.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have that one.”

The little girl looked disappointed. “We always hear it on Christmas Eve.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Tyler muttered. “This isn’t like real Christmas Eve, anyway. We won’t even have Santa Claus tonight.”

Banner shifted in his chair, drawing attention his way. “I could say the poem for you, Tricia, if you want me to,” he added in a mumble.

Tricia sat up straighter. “You have the book?”

“Well…no.”

The child looked confused. “But you said you would read it to me.”

“I said I would recite it for you,” he corrected, and Lucy thought he looked as though he regretted that he had ever spoken at all.

“You have the poem memorized, Banner?” Pop asked encouragingly. “Is that what you mean?”

“Um, yeah. I don’t know that I would win any awards for dramatic recitation, but I have a knack for memorization. I learned that poem when I was just a kid, and it has stayed with me ever since.”

Tricia scooted closer to Banner’s chair, her expression eager. “Say it for us,” she urged. “I want to hear about the reindeer.”

He cleared his throat and glanced somewhat sheepishly toward Lucy, who nodded encouragement at him. And then he began, his voice deep and rich as the words rolled fluently from him. The logs in the fireplace crackled in accompaniment, and Lucy didn’t think she had ever heard a more perfect telling of the beloved poem.

A love of literature was one of the criteria for a man to be placed on her prospect list. How frustrating that Banner met so many of her requirements— “jolly” being a notable exception—yet still set off every emotional alarm she possessed.

“‘Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night,”’ he finished, causing Tricia to break into delighted applause.

“Well now, I’ve played guitar, Pop sang for us, Miss Annie read from the Bible and Banner’s quoted poetry,” Bobby Ray said. “Lucy, do you or Joan want to entertain us now?”

Joan blushed. “I’m afraid I don’t have any talents.”

“Sure you do, Mama,” Tyler argued. “You sing all the time at home, and Grandma said you could have been a real music star.”

Joan blushed even more brightly. “My mother tends to exaggerate.”

“Sing for us, Mama,” Tricia urged. “Bobby Ray can play guitar for you, won’t you, Bobby Ray?”

“I would be delighted.” Bobby Ray cocked his head toward Joan. “What do you want to sing?”

She sighed, apparently realizing that her children wouldn’t stop pressing her until she gave in. “How about ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’? Maybe that will be a good omen for the roads tomorrow.”

Bobby Ray strummed the opening chords of the song. Lucy was pleased that Joan really did have a lovely voice. Her slight country drawl made Lucy think of Reba McEntire. Joan’s mother might have been right about Joan having a career in music had she chosen to pursue it. Lucy wondered if that was a dream that had been abandoned for Joan’s unfortunate early marriage.

Everyone applauded when Joan finished singing.

“That was lovely,” Miss Annie enthused.

“Very nice,” Pop seconded. “We should try a duet.”

“I agree with your mother,” Bobby Ray said. “You have a beautiful voice, Joan.”

Joan’s eyes glowed in the firelight, showing her pleasure with the compliments. “Thank you. But that’s enough, please.”

Bobby Ray turned to Lucy with a mischievous grin. “Well, Miss Lucy? What are you going to do for us?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t suppose you would be interested in hearing some advanced math calculations?”

“Not hardly. Why don’t you sing us a song?”

She laughed. “Trust me, you would rather hear Hulk sing than me.”

Tricia scooted closer to Lucy’s chair. “What can you do, Lucy? Besides math, I mean?”

“I play a little piano, but we don’t have one of those available. It isn’t exactly a portable instrument like Bobby Ray’s guitar.”

“What else?” Tricia seemed confident that Lucy had talents she hadn’t yet revealed.

“I can wiggle my ears,” Tyler announced, and proceeded to do so.

Tricia sighed. “We’re talking about Lucy, not you.”

Lucy turned to Banner. “Do you have a deck of cards?”

He stood, reached into a cabinet beneath a built-in bookcase beside the fireplace and produced a card deck that he tossed to her.

“You do card tricks?” Tyler asked, moving closer on his knees, and making Lucy wonder how many pairs of jeans he had worn out that way.

“I read minds,” she corrected him.

The boy snorted. “Yeah, right.”

“I suppose I’ll have to prove it.” She shuffled the cards, then fanned them in front of him. “Pick a card.”

Keeping his eyes suspiciously locked with hers, Tyler slid a card out of the middle of the deck. He looked at it quickly, then held it pressed against his chest. “You didn’t see it, did you?” he asked.

“No. I’ll close my eyes while you place the card back in the deck.” She made a production of squeezing her eyes tightly shut, laughing when Tricia placed a soft little hand over her face, just to make sure there was no cheating.

After Tyler had replaced the card in the deck, Lucy dramatically hummed and swayed, keeping her eyes locked with his while she slowly shuffled the cards in her hands. And then she pretended to psychically receive inspiration.

“Voilà,” she said, sweeping a card in an arc and then turning it toward Tyler. “You drew the three of clubs, didn’t you?”

His eyes widened. “How did you know?”

“She read your mind,” Tricia said in exasperation. “Weren’t you listening, dopey-head?”

Tyler reached out to give his sister a push. “It was a trick, stupid.”

“I’m not stupid! Mama, he pushed me.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too. Everyone saw you.”

“You know, I would have sworn I heard jingle bells outside a minute ago,” Pop murmured to his wife, making sure the children heard him.

Tricia perked up. “You did?” she asked, forgetting the quarrel.

“Could’ve been the wind,” he answered. “But you never know on Christmas Eve.”

Tricia ran to the window to look out into the cold darkness. Tyler sighed gustily. “Santa doesn’t know we’re here, remember?”

Bobby Ray shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know. Santa’s a pretty smart guy.”

“That’s right,” Pop agreed. “Remember the song?”

He launched into the opening of “Santa Claus is Coming to Town,” urging the others to join in. Despite her warning to the others about the quality of her singing, Lucy sang along. She wasn’t really awful, she figured—just not solo quality. She noticed that Banner even sang a few lines, though so softly she couldn’t hear if he could carry a tune or not.

She knew he had planned to spend this evening alone with his dog, but she suspected that he wasn’t particularly sorry his plans had changed.

After another couple of songs, Joan announced that it was time for her children to brush their teeth and get ready for bed. Carrying flashlights to guide their way, they told everyone good-night and headed out of the room.

Tricia paused in the doorway, turning to say in her clear little voice, “Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.” And then she giggled and turned to run after her family.

“Isn’t she a precious little thing?” Miss Annie murmured.

“She is a cutie.” Pop turned back to Lucy. “Let me see that card trick again. I don’t think I watched closely enough the first time. Didn’t see how you managed it.”

“Watch as closely as you like. You won’t see how I do it this time, either,” she bragged, shuffling the deck as she walked toward his chair.

“I want to see this, too.” Bobby Ray walked over to stand behind Pop’s chair, his gaze focused on Lucy’s hands.

By the time she had performed the trick twice for Pop and once for Bobby Ray, the men had to concede that they had no idea how Lucy knew which card they had chosen each time.

“I read your mind,” she teased, quoting Tricia. “Weren’t you listening, dopey-heads?”

Everyone laughed—except Banner, who stood and turned toward the kitchen. “I think I’ll go out to the workshop and bring some things onto the back porch.”

Lucy knew he meant the children’s gifts. They would be easily accessible on the back porch once they knew the children were sound asleep. “I’ll help you,” she said, laying the deck of cards on a table.

“You need me to come with you?” Bobby Ray asked.

“No, we can handle it,” Banner replied, already on his way.

Bobby Ray picked up the cards and looked at Pop. “Want to join me in a game of candlelight gin rummy?”

“I believe I will,” the older man said, scooting his chair closer to the coffee table.

Miss Annie’s knitting needles were already clicking again when Lucy left the cozy room in Banner’s wake.

Lucy had donned her coat and cap, but she still shivered when she stepped outside. She knew the temperature was only in the low thirties, but it felt colder. It was pitch-dark outside without the security lamps, and she had to aim her flashlight carefully to guide her steps.

“You okay?” Banner asked over his shoulder.

“Just lead the way.”

It was dark in the workshop, of course, but a little warmer than it was outside, since there was still some heat radiating from the woodstove. Banner turned his flashlight to one side of the door, where he had left the children’s gifts. “There they are. You grab one bag, and I’ll take the other. I’ll come back for whatever is left over.”

“This is sort of fun, isn’t it? I’ve never done the Santa Claus thing before.”

She didn’t know how to interpret the grunt he gave her in reply.

She tried again to draw him into a conversation. “I think everyone had a lovely Christmas Eve. The children seemed happy when they went off to bed.”

Banner hefted bags, choosing the lightest one to hand to Lucy. “I think they were kept entertained.”

“I was really impressed by the way you recited the poem. I’ve tried to memorize it a couple of times, but I can never remember all the reindeer names.”

“Yeah, well, I can’t do card tricks. Or advanced math calculations.”

Something in his tone made her frown. Did it bother him that she was a mathematics professor? She had met a few guys who were intimidated by her degree, but she wouldn’t have thought Banner was the type. He seemed to have plenty of self-confidence, but she didn’t doubt that he was a master at hiding any insecurities he might have.

It seemed the more time she spent with him, the more questions she had about him.

She wished she knew exactly why he had become so reticent. She missed the camaraderie she had shared with him earlier, what little there had been. But he seemed to have started drawing back even before the discussion about careers.

Had her growing attraction to him been so obvious? Was he pulling back because he didn’t want to risk sending the wrong signals—didn’t want her to think he was interested in her, too?

To be honest, that was exactly what she had started to believe. She thought there had been a spark between them—not necessarily suitable, but genuine. Maybe she had been mistaken. Or maybe she hadn’t, and he was simply being sensible in applying the brakes to an attraction that probably wouldn’t lead anywhere.

He opened the workshop door again, motioning with his flashlight for her to precede him so he could close the door behind them. “Watch your step.”

It wasn’t easy manipulating the big bag of gifts and the flashlight. Though she tried to be careful, Lucy found herself slipping once or twice on the path back to the house. Since Banner’s hands were also full, there wasn’t much he could do to help her, but he stayed close just in case. She was relieved to make it to the porch with both the gifts and herself in one piece. Banner set his load down beside the door, and she placed hers beside it.

He immediately turned to walk back down the steps. “I’ll get the rest of the stuff.”

Remembering the size of the cradle and the wooden truck and trailer rig, Lucy took a step after him. “I’ll help you.”

“That’s not necessary,” he said without looking back.

“No, really.” She moved a bit faster, the beam from her flashlight swinging in front of her. “I can carry the cradle for you.”

He half turned to face her. “Go back inside where it’s warm. I can—”

There must have been an icy patch beneath his foot. Or perhaps it was mud. Whatever, it was slippery—and Banner’s foot shot out from beneath him, his arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance.

Lucy threw herself at him, bracing him until he regained his footing. His arm went around her waist, probably an instinctive move.

After a moment Lucy asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Just slipped.”

She noted that he didn’t immediately move his arm. Had the temperature risen or was it the fact that she was pressed so snugly against him that made her feel so warm? As if she didn’t know. Nor was she in any hurry to move away.

She looked up at him. Their flashlights were pointed downward, so she couldn’t really see his face. The moon gave enough illumination to show a gleam in his eyes as he gazed back down at her. And still he didn’t move.

“Um, Banner?”

“Yeah?” His voice sounded gruff.

“What are you doing?’

“Just wondering if you really do read minds—or if it was only a card trick,” he murmured.

Caught off guard, she asked blankly, “Why?”

“Because if you read minds, you would know that I’ve been wanting to do this ever since you showed up on my doorstep.”

“Do wha—”

His lips were on hers before she could complete the syllable.

The kiss didn’t last very long, barely long enough for her to note the details of the way his lips tasted, the way they felt and moved against hers. Yet she knew those details were being filed away inside her mind and that she would replay this kiss countless times in her head. Just as she knew that when the kiss ended, she would no longer be able to pretend that she was only casually interested in Banner.

She could no longer ignore the fact that his name had slipped to the top of her prospect list.

Who was she kidding? His name was the only one on her list now, even if he didn’t fit all the criteria she had once believed a man must have to be a suitable match for her.

In just over twenty-four hours, Banner had gone from total stranger to someone she wanted very much to get to know better.

Brief, but powerful—that was the way she would have described the kiss if pressed. Banner lifted his head but didn’t immediately step away, his face still close enough to hers that their breath formed a single frosty cloud between them. She cleared her throat.

“No,” she said, “I definitely did not know that was on your mind.”

“So it was a card trick.”

“Yeah. Just a trick.”

He dropped his arm and moved away, being very careful with his footing this time. “And that,” he said, “was just a kiss.”

She frowned. “Which means…?”

“Nothing.” He turned toward his workshop. “It meant nothing.”

“Banner, wait a minute—”

“I’ll get the rest of the gifts. You’d better go back inside before you freeze.”

He didn’t wait around for whatever she might have said in response.

Banner remembered his earlier suspicions that bad milk was making him behave strangely. Now he figured it had to be something much stronger affecting his behavior. What on earth had possessed him to kiss Lucy Guerin?

Sure, she was pretty, in her elfish sort of way. And, yeah, she had the most kissable lips he had ever encountered. And, okay, he liked being with her, enjoyed her unpredictability. But as for doing anything about any of that…no way.

She was a mathematics professor, for crying out loud. Even if they had anything else in common, that was enough to convince him he should stay well away from her. He could hear his father laugh at the very thought of Banner hooking up with a college professor.

Hell, Banner’s father didn’t think there was any woman alive who could put up with Banner for very long. “You’re just like my uncle Joe,” Richard Banner had said on more occasions than Banner could remember. “He never could find anyone willing to take him on, either.”

Banner had always wondered if he had married Katrina mostly to prove his father wrong about that. If so, it had been a futile effort. The marriage had been over almost as soon as it had begun.

After that disaster he’d thought maybe his father had been right, after all. Maybe Banner was too much like his reclusive, somewhat eccentric great-uncle.

Joe had never had time for social games and hadn’t known how to play them if he had wanted to. Like Banner, Joe had liked other people, but he had never known quite how to behave around them. He had confessed to Banner that he’d always felt as if he was on the outside looking in at other people’s interactions. Banner had identified strongly with that sentiment, since it was exactly the way he had always felt in his own family—or rather, families.

He had sure as hell never fit in with extremely extroverted, highly educated, compulsively inquisitive women like Lucy Guerin.

Even if he and Lucy had been getting along surprisingly well so far, they had only spent a day together. He had no doubt that she would get sick of him soon enough. Katrina sure had, and she had professed to love him. Probably the biggest problem between them had been that he simply hadn’t been capable of loving her in return.

He should never have kissed Lucy. He certainly didn’t want to give her the mistaken impression that he had anything to offer her—even if for some incomprehensible reason she would be interested.

He couldn’t say he entirely regretted it, though. Kissing Lucy had most definitely been a memorable experience.

The children were sound asleep when the presents were arranged beneath the tree. Joan was delighted with Banner’s handmade toys, assuring him that the children would love them. Bobby Ray and Pop both seemed thoroughly impressed with the truck-and-tractor rig, and Lucy was amused by how long Bobby Ray played with the backhoe.

After seeing the cradle, Miss Annie sent her husband to their borrowed bedroom to fetch her knitting bag. She pulled out a lap-size afghan crafted from a soft, cream-colored yarn and finished with fringed ends. “Put this in the cradle,” she ordered. “It’s just the right size for Tricia to tuck her dolls into.”

“Miss Annie, that’s lovely,” Joan said, visibly touched. “But I can’t—”

“It’s not for you, it’s for Tricia,” the older woman interrupted indulgently. “And don’t worry about me not having plenty more. Knitting is about all I can do these days without wearing myself plumb out.”

The afghan added the perfect touch to the charming little cradle. The women all admired it while the men continued to study the intricately detailed truck rig. And then Miss Annie reached into her bag again, pulling out a thick, warm gray knit cap. “Do you think Tyler would like this? I make them for my great-grandsons, and I always have a couple of extras around.”

“He would love it, if you’re sure it’s an extra.” Joan’s voice was thick now, as if she were speaking around a lump in her throat.

Lucy had her own gifts to contribute to the cause. She had brought a shopping bag in from her car a little earlier and had set it in a corner behind the couch. She reached into it now, pulling out a handful of paperback children’s books.

“I buy these on sale all year and take them to my cousins’ children. I’m known as Aunt Lucy the book lady—I just love books. Please pick a couple you think Tyler and Tricia would like.”

“I’ve got a little something for them, too,” Bobby Ray said, looking thoughtful. “I’ll give it to them in the morning.”

Joan’s eyes were wet now, her voice even thicker. “You’re all being so kind.”

After sharing a smile with Miss Annie, Lucy replied, “You’re giving us a chance to enjoy Christmas through the eyes of children. That always makes the holiday more special.”

Joan wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “Thank you. All of you. This could have been a miserable Christmas Eve, stranded away from our families, but it has been lovely.”

“Well, I, for one, am ready to call it a day,” Miss Annie said, putting her knitting bag aside.

Bobby Ray moved immediately to assist her out of her chair and escort her to the master bedroom, with Pop tagging behind. A chorus of good-nights followed them.

“I think I’ll turn in, too,” Joan said. “It’s been a long day, and I’m sure the kids will be up early in the morning.”

Thanking them again, she headed for the guest room where her children were sleeping.

Lucy turned toward Banner, looking at him through her eyelashes, that kiss still haunting her memories. “So…” she began.

He turned away. “I need to let the dog out. C’mon, Hulk.”

The agreeable mutt pushed himself upright and strolled out of the room at Banner’s heels.

Banner, Lucy decided, was obviously regretting the impulsive kiss. As for herself, she had thought it was pretty spectacular, considering its brevity.

She could only imagine how amazing it would be if he really put some time and effort into it.

“Lucy?” Bobby Ray’s voice sounded panicky when he appeared in the living room doorway. “You’d better come quick. Something’s wrong with Miss Annie.”

Chapter Seven

Lucy rushed toward Bobby Ray. “What do you mean? What’s wrong with Miss Annie?”

“I was telling her good night and she just sort of collapsed. I caught her and helped her onto the bed, but it scared the stuffing out of me.”

Lucy followed him to the master bedroom, where Miss Annie lay against the pillows of the bed while her husband hovered close by. “Miss Annie? Are you okay? Pop, should we call an ambulance? Surely some sort of emergency vehicle can get to us here, even with all the ice on the roads.”

Miss Annie shook her head against the pillows. Her voice was weak, but determined. “That’s not necessary, dear. I just had one of my spells.”

Not particularly reassured by the comment, Lucy looked at Pop. “She’s done this before?”

He looked concerned, but there was no panic in his grave expression. “Every so often. She takes medication, but sometimes she gets dizzy, anyway. There’s really no need to call an ambulance tonight.”

Stepping to the side of the bed, Lucy looked down at the older woman. “Is there anything I can get for you, Miss Annie?”

The older woman looked slightly embarrassed at having caused a fuss. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.”

Looking to Pop for confirmation, Lucy hesitated in indecision about what to do. He nodded to let her know everything would be all right. “We’ll both be fine,” he said. “Just need some rest. It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it, Mother?”

“Good night, then,” Lucy said a bit uncertainly, still worried about leaving them alone.

Pop escorted her and Bobby Ray to the hallway. “Good night. See you both in the morning.”

He closed the door firmly in their faces.

“Well,” Bobby Ray said as he and Lucy walked back into the living room, “I guess Pop would be more worried if there was anything seriously wrong.”

“I’m sure you’re right.” Lucy wished she felt more confident about that. Miss Annie had looked so frail and tired lying there against Banner’s pillows.

Sensing Lucy’s anxiety, Bobby Ray threw a meaty arm around her shoulders and gave her a bracing squeeze that nearly emptied her lungs of air. “Don’t you worry, Lucy, we’ll take good care of Miss Annie while she’s here.”

She smiled up at him. “I know. She’s become very dear to me in the past few hours.”

“She’s a dear lady,” he agreed. “Funny how we’ve all gotten to know each other so well in such a short time, isn’t it?”

“I would like to think we’ve become friends,” she replied. “And speaking of which…”

Banner’s dog nosed between them, as if to participate in a group hug. His shaggy tail thumped roughly against Lucy’s hip. She laughed as his cold nose burrowed into the hem of her waist-length sweatshirt, touching the sensitive skin beneath.

Stepping away from Bobby Ray, she pushed against the mutt. “Your nose is freezing, you silly dog, and I’m not letting you warm it against me.”

Looking over the dog’s head, she spotted Banner standing in the doorway, scowling rather fiercely as he gazed at her and Bobby Ray. “Y’all ready to get some sleep?” he asked, his voice more curt than usual.

“I sure am.” Bobby Ray scratched his beard. “I don’t usually turn in this early, but we’ve stayed busy today.”

“You’ll want to sleep on the couch again, Lucy,” Banner said in the same impersonal tone he had used before. “It’s too cold in the office.”

Not to mention that it was dark and lonely in the office, Lucy added silently. “The couch will be fine, thank you.”

Lucy and Banner found themselves alone again one more time that evening. Bobby Ray was in the bathroom, taking a quick shower by candlelight. Lucy had already dressed for bed in a pair of navy knit yoga pants with baby-blue piping down the side and a snug-fitting, long-sleeved baby-blue T-shirt. She wore white socks on her feet to keep them warm. While still modest, this outfit would be much more comfortable than the jeans and sweater she had slept in the night before.

Banner had changed into gray sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. Like Lucy, he wore white sport socks. His dark hair was tousled, and his jaw was stubbled with dark whiskers that did nothing to detract from his brooding good looks. Quite the opposite, actually.

Lucy studied him in silent appreciation as he knelt in front of the fire, feeding logs into the flames, his endearingly ugly dog at his side. The firelight played across Banner’s face, highlighting the planes and shadows of his features. It wasn’t difficult for her always-active imagination to picture him sitting there without his shirt, that same firelight playing over tanned skin and rippling muscle. The image was clear enough to almost make her salivate.

“You’re looking at me,” he said.

Since he hadn’t glanced away from the fire, she wasn’t sure how he had known, but she said agreeably, “Yes, I am. Does it make you uncomfortable?”

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