LITMIR.BIZ

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conferences. Never mind that Miss Green was fifty-seven years old and smelled of chalk dust and rose water.

      But Holly Bennett wasn’t a spinster schoolteacher and she was hard to ignore. His fingers tingled as he remembered touching her, wrapping her delicate hand in his as he dragged her out of the barn. She was waiting downstairs at this very moment, waiting for him to decide her fate, and his mind was already starting to conjure excuses to touch her again.

      “She could stay in the guest room,” Eric suggested.

      Alex leveled a perturbed look at his son. “I’m not allowing a perfect stranger to—”

      “Angel,” Eric corrected.

      “All right, a perfect angel, to stay in our house.”

      “Then she can stay in the tack house. No one’s stayed there since Gramps moved back into the house. He thinks she’s pretty and nice.”

      “How do you know?” Alex said, raising an eyebrow.

      “I can just tell.” His son set his mouth in a stubborn straight line.

      Alex covered his eyes with his hands and moaned. If he sent Holly Bennett packing, Eric would never forgive him. And he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his father. Aw, hell, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea having her around. He hated stringing lights on the tree. The smell of evergreen made him sneeze. And he was more comfortable with curry combs than cookie cutters.

      Besides, Christmas had always reminded him of Renee. Every ornament, every decoration brought back memories of their time together, time when they’d been a happy family with a bright future. The week after she’d left, he’d thrown out every reminder of Christmas she’d brought into the house, vowing to discard anything that brought thoughts of her betrayal.

      But here was a chance to begin anew, to create Christmas traditions only he and Eric shared. Sure, Holly the Angel would be around, but she was nothing more than an employee, a helping hand during a busy season. And he was curious to learn who was paying her salary, a secret he might learn given time. “All right,” Alex said. “She has three days to prove herself and if everything’s going all right, she can stay.”

      “Then we’re not going skiing in Colorado?”

      He sent his son a grudging smile. “No, we’re not going to Colorado. But you’re going to have to deal with her. I’m not going take care of her the same way I have to take care of Thurston and the horses. She’s your angel.”

      Eric hit him full force against the chest, throwing himself at Alex and wrapping his arms around his father’s neck. The boy gave him an excruciating hug and beamed up at him. “Thanks, Dad. Can I go tell her?”

      Alex ruffled Eric’s pale hair, a flood of parental love warming his blood, then kissed his son on the cheek. It took so little to make Eric happy. How could he think of refusing him even a bit of joy? “Crawl back under the covers and I’ll tuck you in. Then I’ll go down and tell your angel.”

      Eric gave him another quick hug, then scrambled back between the sheets. As he did every night, Alex tucked the blankets around his son, then tickled his stomach. “Who loves you the most?”

      “You do!” Eric cried.

      Alex brushed the hair out of Eric’s eyes, then stood. But as he walked to the door, his son’s voice stopped him. “Dad? Do you ever miss Mom?”

      His hand froze on the doorknob and Alex turned around. He wasn’t sure what to say. Did he miss the fighting, the constant anger that bubbled between them? Did he miss the sick feeling he got every time she went into the city, knowing she was meeting another man? No, he didn’t. But he did miss the contentment he saw in his son’s eyes whenever Renee was near. “Your mom is very talented. She had to leave so that she could be the very best actress she could. But that doesn’t mean that she doesn’t love you just as much as I do.”

      Though his question hadn’t been answered, Eric smiled, then sank back against the pillows. “Night, Dad.”

      Alex released a tightly held breath as he slowly descended the stairs, wondering at how he’d managed to dodge yet another bullet. Sooner or later, Eric would demand explanations and Alex wasn’t sure what to tell him. So far, he’d always managed to evade the truth. But could he tell an outright lie to his son?

      He turned into the library and stopped short. Holly sat primly on a leather wing chair staring at the dying embers of a fire in the fireplace across the room. She was like a vision from paradise and Alex found himself tongue-tied. She’d removed her coat and tossed it over the back of the chair, revealing a pretty red jacket, cinched in at her tiny waist and a slim black skirt that revealed impossibly long legs. He’d never met a woman quite as cool and sophisticated as her. But though she appeared to be all business, there was an underlying allure that was hard to ignore. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting,” he muttered. “If you’ll just tell me where your things are, I’ll get you settled.”

      She straightened at the sound of his voice then neatly crossed her legs. Alex stood beside his desk and let his gaze drift along the sweet curve of her calf. When she cleared her throat, he snapped back to reality and silently scolded himself. If Holly Bennett would be hanging around this holiday season, he’d have to prevent all future fantasizing!

      “Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice, “for allowing me to stay.”

      “I suppose I should be thanking you,” Alex replied. “Eric requested you be offered a guest room, but—”

      “Oh, no!” Holly cried. “I have a budget. I can afford to stay at a hotel. And I’ll rent a car to get back and forth.”

      “If you’ll let me finish,” Alex said. “I agreed that you can stay for the next three days. I can’t imagine you’ll need any more time than that. And you can stay in the tack house. It’s quite nice. There’re a couple of guest rooms with private baths and small kitchenettes. And you can use the pickup to get around. I can use my dad’s old truck.”

      “But I’ve been hired to stay through Christmas day,” she replied. She stared down at her lap, then glanced back up at him. “I know this is a little strange, me barging into your lives. Believe me, this is not the typical job for me. But I do intend to do it right and that will take more than three days.”

      “How long can it take to put up a Christmas tree and a few strings of lights?” he demanded.

      She looked at him disdainfully, as if he’d just asked her to build the Queen Mary III overnight. “Actually, Mr. Marrin, the job will take quite a bit of time and attention. You have no decorations up and, from what your father tells me, you don’t have any in storage. Between the exteriors and the interiors, there are at least three days of planning to be done. And with the budget, I can do some very special things. And I’ve got baking to do and menus to plan and if you’d like to throw a party or two I’m perfectly capable of—”

      He held out his hand to stop her. “Slow down, Betty Crocker.”

      “Martha Stewart,” she muttered.

      “What?”

      “Betty Crocker is a face on a cake box. I’m really much more like Martha Stewart.” She sighed impatiently and stared at her hands.

      “All right. Why don’t we just see if everything goes all right, then we’ll talk about extending your…earthly incarnation. But first, maybe you’d like to tell me who’s financing your visit.”

      She shrugged her delicate shoulders. “I told you, I don’t know.”

      “Don’t know, or can’t say?”

      “Both,” Holly murmured.

      A long silence spun out between them as Alex watched her intently. She shifted in her chair, and for a moment, he thought she might bolt. “She left two years ago,” he said, meeting her shocked gaze coolly. “Four days before Christmas. That’s what you’ve wanted to ask, isn’t

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