A Diamond For Christmas: Kisses on Her Christmas List / Her Christmas Eve Diamond / Single Dad's Holiday Wedding

He sat forward, dropped his clasped hands between his knees, then straightened again and caught her gaze. “I’m sorry your ex was a jerk.”

“I’m sorry your marriage didn’t work out.”

Once again silence reigned and unspoken thoughts rippled through her brain. He was a nice guy and, at her core, Finley was a sweet little girl. She’d give anything to have had a good husband and a beautiful child. Anything.

Rory leaned toward her and her heart expanded in her chest. They were only a foot apart. A shift forward by him, a shift forward by her and their lips could touch.

But uncertainty leaped in the dark depths of his deep brown eyes. Though he didn’t say a word, she knew the litany undoubtedly rattling through his head right now. They were both wounded. He had a child. And as soon as they got out of his storm, they’d be doing business. They shouldn’t get involved.

He pulled back, away from her, confirming her suspicions, and disappointment shuddered through her.

He rose. “I guess I’d better head off to bed myself. I’ll see you in the morning.”

She smiled. “Sure. See you in the morning.”

But something splintered inside her heart. Since Bryce, she’d lived with a feeling of inadequacy. Not being good enough. Never feeling womanly enough. Though Rory had good reasons not to kiss her, those feelings of inadequacy reverberated through her. Whispering like demons, reminding her that for lots of men she wasn’t whole, wasn’t good enough…couldn’t ever be good enough.

The next morning the world was still a winter wonderland. Rory ambled into the kitchen to find Shannon sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee.

She smiled at him over the rim. “No Finley?”

“She’s still sleeping.”

“Good, then I can tell you I watched the local news this morning.”

He winced. “Bad?”

She laughed. “Depends on your point of view. Raleigh’s employees get another unexpected vacation day. We got another six inches of snow last night and the roads haven’t been cleared from the first storm.”

Rory didn’t care. Finley was well-behaved, happy, for the first time in the two years they’d struggled without her mom. Another day of not looking at the store didn’t bother him. Unfortunately, he wasn’t the only person in this equation.

“I’m sorry that you’re losing revenue.”

“Funny thing about running the only department store in a twenty-mile radius. You might think we’d lose a lot of business by being closed for the entire weekend before Christmas, but the truth is we’ll just be busier Monday through Friday.” She smiled. “We’ll be fine.”

Rory got a cup of coffee and headed to the table. Sitting across from her, he noticed she wasn’t wearing a lick of makeup. Her hair had been combed but not styled and the riot of curls made her look young, carefree. Kissable.

His heart cartwheeled in his chest as longing sprinted through him. But he’d already been through this in his head the night before, so he ignored the yearning in favor of the more important issue. In spite of the fact that he’d almost kissed her the night before, she wasn’t upset, angry or even standoffish. She still liked having him and Finley at her home.

He picked up his coffee, drank a long swallow, then said, “How about if I make omelets this morning?”

“Oh, I love omelets!” Her face brightened in a way that shot an arrow of arousal through him. He didn’t know what it was about this woman that attracted him so, but he did know that these feelings were inappropriate. She’d done so much for them in the past two days that he owed her. He shouldn’t be ogling her or fantasizing about kissing her.

“I have some ham, some cheese. I’ll bet there’s even a green pepper or two in the refrigerator.”

“Western omelets it is, then.”

Yawning, Finley pushed open the swinging door. “Morning.”

Rory scooped her off the floor. “Morning to you, too.” He kissed her cheek. “I’m making omelets.”

Her eyes widened with delight. “Good!” She scooted down. “I’ll set the table.”

Shannon caught his gaze, her eyebrows rising in question. He shrugged. But he knew why Finley was so helpful, so accommodating. He’d like to take credit, but he couldn’t. Shannon was the one who’d so easily guided her into helping with meals and setting the table, keeping her busy so she wouldn’t get bored and misbehave.

And the way he thanked her was with inappropriate thoughts of kissing her?

Not good, Rory. Seriously, not good.

Shannon chopped the green peppers and ham, while he gathered eggs, beat them in a bowl. They worked together companionably, happily, as Finley set out plates and silver. But when breakfast was over, Finley slid off her seat. “Are we going now?”

Rory looked at Shannon. Then realized what he’d done. He hadn’t just turned to her for help with Finley. He trusted her. He wanted her advice.

That was not good. Not because she couldn’t help, but because his reaction had been automatic. Instinctive.

“Are we ever going to get out of here?”

Shannon rose from the table, taking Finley’s plate with her. “Aren’t you having fun?”

Her lip thrust out. “Yeah. Sort of.”

“The roads are still pretty bad,” Rory said. He walked over to her and lifted her into his arms. “Unless the snowplow comes through sometime today, we’re still stuck here.”

Her lower lip jutted out even farther. “Okay.”

Shannon understood her cabin fever, but multiplied by about fifty. Not only was she stuck in her house, but she was also stuck with a man she was really coming to like who wouldn’t want her if he knew the truth about her. Even if he was interested and asked her out, she’d never accept a date. Lying awake the night before, she’d realized that if they dated, at some point she’d have to tell him she couldn’t have kids. The last man she’d told hadn’t taken it so well. Just like Bryce, Rory wanted kids. Was it worth a few weeks or months of her happiness to put him in a position of having to dump her when she told him?

It wasn’t. Which was why the subject of a date or romance or even liking each other would never come up, if she could help it. And why needing to keep Finley busy was such a lucky, lucky thing.

She walked over to the six-year-old. “I have an idea. I have a neighbor who lives over there.” She pointed over Finley’s shoulder, out the window. “She’s a little bit older and her husband died last year. So when we get stranded like this, she’s all by herself. Imagine being all by yourself for three days, no company, nobody to talk to.”

Finley gasped and pressed her hands over her mouth. “I’ll bet she’s scared.”

“Maybe not scared. But lonely. So, since the weather’s not so bad that we can’t go out, I was thinking we could bake a cake and take it to her.” She glanced at Rory, silently asking for his approval as she detailed her plan. “We’d have to walk, but we could think of it as fun, like we did yesterday when we were sledding.”

Rory frowned. “How far away does she live?”

“Not far,” she assured him. “Just far enough that we’d get a good walk in the fresh air.” She faced Finley. “So, do you want to try to bake a cake?”

“What kind?”

“I have a box mix for a chocolate cake and one for a yellow. We could make peanut-butter icing for the chocolate. Or chocolate icing for the yellow.”

Finley slid out of her father’s arms and to the floor. “I like peanut butter.”

“So do I.” She nudged Finley to the door. “Go back to the bedroom and change out of your pj’s and we’ll get to work.”

Finley nodded and raced out of the room. Rory followed her. “I’ll help her.”