A Husband For Christmas: Snow Kisses / Lionhearted

They were at the back door. He opened it and let her into the warm, dry kitchen ahead of him. Calla had apparently stepped out for a minute, because it was deserted.

“Abby,” he called.

She turned at the entrance to the dining room and looked back at him. He’d pulled off his hat, and his dark hair glittered damply black in the light.

His eyes slid down her body, taking in the ill-fitting clothing, and went back up to her flushed face and wide, soft eyes. The tension was suddenly between them, the old tension that she’d felt that night at the swimming pool when he’d seen her as no other man ever had. She could feel the shock of his gaze, the wild beat of her own heart in the silence that throbbed with unexpected promise.

“Are you happy in New York?” he asked.

She faltered, trying to get words past her tight throat. She had been—or she’d convinced herself that she had been—until the incident that had made her run home for shelter, for comfort. But always she’d missed Painted Ridge...and Cade.

“Of course I am,” she lied. “Why?”

His tall frame shifted impatiently, as if he’d wanted an answer she hadn’t given him. He made a strange gesture with one hand. “I just wondered, that’s all. I saw your face on a magazine cover the other day,” he added, studying her. “One of the better ones. That means something, I gather?”

“Yes,” she agreed with a wan smile. “It’s quite a coup to have a cover on that kind of magazine. My agency was thrilled about it.”

His eyes wandered over her face, searching eyes that grew dark with some emotion she couldn’t name. “You’re beautiful, all right,” he said quietly. “You always were. Not just physically, either. You reminded me of sunlight on a morning meadow. All silky and bright and sweet to look at. Whatever happened to that little girl?”

She felt an ache deep inside, a hunger that nothing had ever filled. Her eyes touched every hard line of his face, lines she would have loved to smooth away. She withered away from you, she wanted to tell him. Part of her died when she left Painted Ridge.

But of course she couldn’t say that. “She grew up, Cade,” she said instead.

He shook his head and smiled—a strange, soft smile that puzzled her. “No, not quite. I carry her around in my memory and every once in a while, I take her out and look at her.”

“She was dreadfully naive,” she murmured, trying not to let him see how his statement had touched her.

He moved slowly toward her, stopping just in front of her. He towered over her, powerful and big and faintly threatening, and she fought down the fear of his strength that had already surfaced once that night.

She looked up, intrigued by the smell of leather and wind that clung to him. “I’d forgotten how tall you are,” she said involuntarily.

“I’ve forgotten nothing about you, Abby,” he said curtly. “Including the fact that once you couldn’t get close enough to me. But now you back away the minute I come near you.”

So he had noticed. She dropped her eyes to the front of his shepherd’s coat. “Do I?”

“You shied away from me in the calving shed tonight. Do you think I didn’t notice? Then in the truck...” He drew in a deep breath. “My God, I’d never hurt you. Don’t you know that?”

Her eyes traced the stitching on the coat and she noticed a tiny smudge near one of the buttons, as if ashes from his cigarette had fallen on it. Silly things to be aware of when she could feel the heat of his big body, and she remembered as if it were yesterday how sweet it was to be held against him.

“I know,” she said after a minute. She forced her eyes up to his. “I...have some problems I’m trying to work out.”

“A man?” he asked curtly.

She nodded. “In a way.”

His face hardened, and his hands came up as if he would have liked to grip her with them. But he abruptly jammed them into his pockets. “Want to tell me about it?”

Her head went slowly from side to side. “Not yet. I have to find myself, Cade. I have to work it out in my own way.”

“Does it have something to do with your career?” he asked.

“Yes, it does. I have to decide whether or not I want to go on with it,” she confessed.

He seemed to brighten. His face changed, relaxed, making him look strangely young. “Thinking of quitting?”

“Why not?” she asked, grinning. “Need an extra cowhand? I close gates good—you ask Hank if I don’t.”

He smiled back, his dark eyes sparkling with humor. “I’ll do that.”

She sighed. “You’ll be ready to run me off by the time that month’s up,” she said with a short laugh. “Anyway, I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

He searched her quiet face. “Maybe I can help you make up your mind,” he murmured. One hand caught her chin and turned it up, while his eyes searched hers curiously. “Melly said there was a man. A bad experience. What happened, honey, a love affair gone sour?”

She flinched, moving backward to release herself from the disturbing pressure of his fingers. She hadn’t fled New York only to wind up back in Cade McLaren’s hip pocket again; letting him get too close would be suicide in more ways than one. His strength unnerved her, but there was more to it than that. She reacted to him in ways that she’d never reacted to any other man. Every man she’d dated or been with socially had been for her a poor imitation of this one, and she was only now realizing how large he loomed in her memory. For years she’d pushed that night at the swimming pool to the back of her mind, afraid to take it out and look at it. And tonight, going back in time had stirred something deep inside her, had momentarily banished the bad memories to make way for remembered sensations and longings.

She stared up into Cade’s dark eyes and saw her whole world. He was as big as this country, and nothing she ever found in New York was going to replace him. But there was no way she was going to let him know it. He’d pushed her away ever since that long-ago night. It was as if he couldn’t bear having her close to him, in any way. Even now, when she backed away, he wasn’t following. He could still let her go without flinching, without regret, even in this small way.

“A man,” she agreed, and let it go at that, not looking at him. “What do you think I did in New York, stare out windows longing to be back here?” That was the truth, little did he know it. The glitter had long ago worn off her life there, leaving it barren and lonely.

“Not me, honey,” he said. “I know all too well how dull this place is to you. You’ve done everything but shout it from the roof.” He glared at her. “Did the man come too close, Abby? Did he want to settle down, and you couldn’t face the thought of that?”

She stared at him blankly. “Is that shocking?” she asked, adding fuel to the fire. “I told you, Cade, I like my life the way it is. I like having money to spend and things to see and places to go. I went to Jamaica to do a layout last month, and in September I’m going to Greece for another one. That’s exciting. It’s great fun.”

He stared at her with cold eyes, believing the lie. “Yes, I can see that,” he growled.

He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it while his eyes ran quietly over every line of her face. “Then where does your boyfriend come in?”

She swallowed and turned away. “He wasn’t...a boyfriend, and it’s a long story.”

“I’ll find time to listen.”

She shifted restlessly and turned. “Not tonight, if you don’t mind. I’d like to say hello to Jerry.”

He drew in an angry breath, and for just an instant she thought he was going to insist. But he reached past her and opened the door.

She went ahead of him, relieved that he’d swallowed her explanation. Boyfriend! Oh, God, what a horrible joke that was, but she’d rather have died than tell him the truth. Anyway, what would it matter? Let him think she was just getting over a love affair. What did it matter?

5 (#ulink_d58dd13e-f93d-5179-a1ef-a7db5d382a1d)

Melly was curled up on the sofa next to the tall, blond man who was going to be her husband. They both jumped when Cade deliberately slammed the door behind Abby and himself.

“Oh, hi, boss.” Jerry Ridgely grinned, looking over the sofa back with dancing blue eyes. “Hi, Abby, welcome home!”

“Thanks, Jerry,” she said, grinning back. She’d known him almost as long as Melly had. One of the advantages of growing up in country like this was that you knew most everybody from childhood onward. It gave people a sense of security to know that some things stayed constant.

“Staying for the wedding?” he asked, and Melly smiled at her sister.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she promised. “Which reminds me, Melly,” she added, sticking her hands in her pockets, “I’ve roughed out some sketches for your wedding dress. They’re in my suitcase.”