Table of Contents

Cover Page

Was it love?

Dear Reader

Title Page

Dedication

About the Author

Recipe for A Very Merry Christmas

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Copyright

Was it love?

Ryan had his son, Sawyer, to think about. But Danielle and Sawyer already shared an easy affection that would grow if fed time and patience. In short, loving Danielle might not be such a bad thing for the boy…or for him.

So why did the thought scare Ryan half to death?

Maybe it was because what was between them defied logic, common sense and caution. Near strangers, they had kissed in the dark and tempted fate. And he’d enjoyed it way too much.

Was this a Christmas miracle? A little Yuletide magic? A gift from above that Ryan would be a total idiot to deny?

He didn’t know…but he was going to find out.

Dear Reader,

What better way for Silhouette Romance to celebrate the holiday season than to celebrate the meaning of family….

You’ll love the way a confirmed bachelor becomes a FABULOUS FATHER just in time for the holidays in Susan Meier’s Merry Christmas, Daddy. And in Mistletoe Bride, Linda Varner’s HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS miniseries merrily continues. The ugly duckling who becomes a beautiful swan will touch your heart in Hometown Wedding by Elizabeth Lane. Doreen Roberts’s A Mom for Christmas tells the tale of a little girl’s holiday wish, and in Patti Standard’s Family of the Year, one man, one woman and a bunch of adorable kids form an unexpected family. And finally, Christmas in July by Leanna Wilson is what a sexy cowboy offers the struggling single mom he wants for his own.

Silhouette Romance novels make the perfect stocking stuffers—or special treats just for yourself. So enjoy all six irresistible books, and most of all, have a very happy holiday season and a very happy New Year!

Melissa Senate

Senior Editor

Silhouette Romance

Please address questions and book requests to:

Silhouette Reader Service

U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269

Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3

Mistletoe Bride
Linda Varner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Thanks to Ginger Moix for sharing her expertise on

horses, barns and rodeos.

LINDA VARNER confesses she is a hopeless romantic. Nothing is more thrilling, she believes, than the battle of wits between a man and a woman who are meant for each other but just don’t know it yet! Linda enjoys writing romance fiction and considers herself very lucky to have been both a RITA finalist and a third-place winner in the National Readers’Choice Awards in 1993.

A full-time federal employee, Linda lives in Arkansas with her husband and their two children. She loves to hear from readers. Write to her at 813 Oak St., Suite 10A-277, Conway, AR 72032.

Recipe forA Very Merry Christmas

1 cowboy

1 newly found son

1 unexpected mugging

1 independent single gal

1 rescue

1 ranch (big enough for 3…or more)

Toss together cowboy and son, add in Christmas Eve mugging. Stir in single gal and a reluctant rescue. Set mixture on an isolated ranch, right in time for Christmas morning. Simmer until too hot to handle.

Yield: A HOME FOR THE HOLIDAYS…and forever!

Prologue

“Okay. You don’t have to go if you promise me that you won’t play with matches, stick anything in your nose or ears, drink poison or open the door to strangers.” Ryan Given, now hesitating on the threshold of the motel room he’d just rented, hated leaving his son, Sawyer, alone for even a second. It was something he hadn’t done since they’d found one another.

“Aw, Dad,” responded the boy, who lay sprawled on his stomach on one of the beds, his nose a couple of feet from the television set. “That kind of stuff is for kids. I’m eight years old.”

“So you are,” Ryan hastily murmured, properly chastised. Though his fingers itched to tousle Sawyer’s dark hair affectionately, he wasn’t that comfortable with the boy yet, so dared not. Instead, he stepped into the freezing cold night and shut the door firmly behind him. Sawyer would surely be okay for the fifteen minutes required to walk to a nearby café, pick up their take-out dinner and walk back to the motel. In fact, he’d probably be okay for longer than that. He was damned mature for his age.

Grinning with fatherly pride—a novel experience—Ryan sidetracked to the narrow metal strongbox hidden behind the seat of his pickup truck, where he’d stashed their traveling cash. He tucked a couple of ten-dollar bills into his wallet, then headed to the café where a long overdue hearty meal awaited. He and Sawyer had been on the road ten hours, with only quick snacks to nourish them. Both wanted the works tonight: salad, fried chicken, mashed potatoes, homemade cloverleaf rolls with lots of real butter, apple pie and ice cream….

Ryan swallowed hard and stepped faster, his face stinging from the brisk winter wind. Wishing for his sheepskinlined jacket, which hung in the motel room, he noted how dark it was for 7:30 p.m.—black as pitch, thanks to heavy snow clouds—then glanced toward his destination, the Clearwater Café. Though a tree-tangled shortcut obscured his view of the building, Ryan could tell that vehicles filled the back parking lot. He couldn’t help but wonder why all these people weren’t at home, spending Christmas Eve with their families.

Ducking to avoid a low-hanging limb, Ryan entered the shadowy no-man’s-land that would save him steps, according to the motel desk clerk. Almost instantly, he stumbled over a rock, invisible under the patchy snow underfoot. Then a frozen tree branch slapped his cowboy hat off his head. Staggering like a wino on a cheap drunk, Ryan reseated his hat, then forged a path through the gnarled branches by pushing them, crackling and popping, away from his face.

So much for saving steps, he thought as his hat left his head again. Cursing his bad luck, Ryan bent to retrieve it. He heard the snap of a frozen twig. He sensed that he was not alone.

“Who’s there?” Ryan blurted out, words that barely left his lips before he saw a blur of motion and felt pain shoot through his head.

Chapter One

Humming “Blue Christmas,” the last song she’d heard inside the Clearwater Café that Thursday night, Danielle Sellica slipped behind the steering wheel of her car and set her one-more-for-the-road cup of coffee in the plastic holder designed for it.

She wrinkled her nose at the smell of old grease and cigarettes that permeated her denim jacket. Although a few minutes of fresh Colorado air would easily kill the scents, Dani didn’t get out of the car. It was already 8:30 p.m., and a one-hour drive home still lay ahead. Not that Dani minded the drive. She really didn’t. There was just so much to do before she could go to bed tonight—not the least of which was put up and decorate her Christmas tree.

A mood as blue as the Christmas of the song settled over her. Refusing to give in to it, Dani turned on the radio and quickly found a station playing something upbeat. She relished the cheerful tune, as well as the beauty of the snowflakes dancing in her headlights, for only a moment before turning the volume way up so she could sing “Holly Jolly Christmas” at the top of her voice.

It was the buzz of the car phone that brought an end to her off-key songfest some forty-five minutes later. Since only one person ever called her on the car telephonebought for emergency purposes only—Dani smiled and turned off the radio, then snatched up the receiver.

“How did you know I was in the car?” she demanded, instead of saying hello.

The familiar laughter of Jonni Lisa Maynard, a dear friend and neighbor, spilled forth. “Lucky guess.”

“Do I hear Jimmy Stewart in the background?”

“Of course. Have I ever made it through December without crying over It’s a Wonderful Life a couple of dozen times? For that matter, have you?”

It was Dani’s turn to laugh. They were both sentimental softies for sure. “No to both. Are you ready for Christmas tomorrow?”

“I’m proud to report that my presents are wrapped, my fruitcake is baked and my tree is up. How about you?”

“I’m not into fruitcakes, but my shopping, such as it is, is done.”

“What about your Christmas tree?” asked Jonni.

“The most beautiful Douglas fir in the world is in my trunk even as we speak. I’ll put it up the minute I get home.”

“And I thought I was running late! Any big plans for the holiday?”

“I’ll probably sew.”

“You mean you still haven’t finished Barbara’s wedding dress?” Jonni asked, referring to a mutual friend who planned a New Year’s Day wedding.

“Another lucky guess,” Dani told her, ruefully adding, “Would you believe she’s changed her mind about the sleeves three times?”

“I’d believe that. What I cannot believe is that you ever agreed to make it in the first place.”

“Temporary insanity?”

“Well, that beats the permanent kind, which is what I’ll be by the time Ricky goes back to school.” Ricky was Jonni’s rambunctious seven-year-old son, out of school for the holidays and already driving his mother nuts. She also had a four-year-old daughter named Pattie and was trying for a third child.

“Which reminds me—”

Thump. Thump.

A sudden sound, loud enough to make Dani abandon what she’d started to say about having presents for the children, seemed to be coming from the rear of the car. A flat? she automatically wondered with a mental sigh of dismay.

“Dani? You still there?”

“I’m here, and I’ve got a flat,” Dani replied even as she braked her car and eased off the asphalt.

“Oh, God,” Jonni exclaimed, clearly concerned. “Will you be okay?”

“Are you kidding? I can change a tire in five minutes with one hand in my pocket.” She didn’t add that she’d never had to do it on a lonely mountain road with the heavens spitting snow….

“Well, be careful. Two guys broke out of prison this morning—”

“Thanks so much for letting me know,” Dani retorted dryly, refusing to think about a prison break at Cañon City, less than fifty miles away.

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry—”

“I was teasing you. I’m not a bit scared. Now, I really have to go.”

“Please call me when you get home. I’ll worry until I hear from you.”

“I’ll call,” Dani promised, wishing her friend a Merry Christmas before hanging up.

With another sigh, this one of resignation, Dani killed the engine. After checking to see that the car was easily visible to approaching traffic, should there be any, she switched on the hazard blinkers. Flashlight in hand, Dani then got out of the car.

With purposeful strides, she walked around her vehicle, inspecting each tire in turn. There was no flat. Had she imagined that awful noise…?

Thump! Thump! Thump Thump Thump! As if on cue, it came again, only louder.

Dani whirled toward the sound, which seemed to be emanating from the trunk. For the first time, she noticed that Kyle Smith, the surly teenager who’d loaded her Douglas fir in the trunk, had not tied down the lid as she’d requested, but had closed it instead.

Wondering if something besides a Christmas tree now lay inside, Dani retrieved her keys from the ignition. Had that bad-mannered young man played some sort of practical joke on her? Dani wouldn’t have been surprised. He’d made it more than plain that carrying a Christmas tree from the service station, where she’d bought it, to her car, parked behind the café next door, was beneath him. Obviously she should have supervised the task instead of heading inside the eatery for her late dinner.

Though admittedly more outraged than afraid—some poor stray dog or cat was probably trapped inside the trunk—Dani did clutch the long-handled flashlight like a club. In truth, she was fully prepared to trounce whatever she found, should it prove dangerous.

Her ring full of keys jangled against the car when she inserted the right one in the lock—

“Thank God!”

Dani squealed and leaped back at the sound of the muffled masculine voice coming from inside her trunk.

“Hey!” Thump! Thump! “I’m dying in here! Let me out!”

She could not move. She could not think. For the first time, fear shimmied up her spine. How could this be? Had Kyle somehow fallen in…?

Or was one of the escaped convicts hiding in her trunk?

“Hel-looo? Anybody there?”

Heart hammering, Dani eased the key out of the lock. Not for anything was she going to open this trunk now.

“I know you’re out there. Open up, dammit.” Thump! Thump! “Open up now!”

With a gasp, Dani spun on her heel and lunged for the driver’s side of the car. In a heartbeat, she was behind the steering wheel. In another, she was speeding back to Clearwater. Destination: the police station. More than once, Dani glanced fearfully in the rearview mirror, half expecting to find a man in a bright orange jumpsuit with a number stenciled on it sitting in the back seat.

But he was in the trunk, not the back seat.

“Omigosh!”

What seemed an eternity later, but was really only forty minutes, Dani turned on two wheels into the parking lot adjacent to the Clearwater police station.

She greeted the officer on duty, Cliff Meeks, by name-they went back a long way—then spilled her story in a rush of words. Without comment, Cliff rose from the crackedvinyl swivel chair and headed straight down the hall to the exit that opened onto the parking lot.

“You don’t even seem surprised,” Dani commented, hurrying after him.

“Nothing could surprise me tonight,” drawled the relocated Texan, an old friend of Dani’s father. She didn’t have time to question the cryptic comment before they reached her car. Silently, Dani handed him the key. Then she took cover behind his considerable girth.

Instead of opening the trunk, Cliff slapped his hand down hard on the lid. “Hey in there! Chief Cliff Meeks, Clearwater Police, speaking. I want your name, and I want it now.”

“Ryan Given. Let me out.”

“Okay, Mr. Given, I will. But you should know that I’m armed, so don’t try anything funny.”

“I swear I won’t,” came the muffled reply. “Just let me outta here.”

His expression unreadable, Cliff pulled his gun, unlocked the trunk and tossed back the lid. Inside lay a man, as expected—a wide-shouldered, broad-chested, long-legged man. Dani took quick note of his clothing—western from head to toe—before dragging her gaze away.

A cowboy. A sweet-talking, good-looking, don’t-worryyore-pretty-li’l-head-about-it cowboy. She’d be safer with an escaped convict.

This cowboy’s groan of agony drew Dani’s gaze back to him. Without sympathy, she watched as the blue-eyed wrangler untangled his feet from a length of rope and unfolded himself from the trunk. It took an assist from Cliff, who for some reason had reholstered his weapon, to get the stranger fully on his feet. Then the man sat right back down on the rim of the open trunk, touching his fingertips to the back of his head. Dani saw blood on them.

“It’s about damn time,” the ungrateful stowaway commented, glancing at his blood-smeared hand. He looked accusingly from Cliff to her and then back to Cliff. “Are we really still in Clearwater after driving around for so long?”

“That’s right,” Cliff said, coolly adding, “ID, please.”

The man, clearly in a temper, shook his head. “Stolen by whoever locked me in here. I’m from Tulsa, Oklahoma, staying at the Garrett Motel. My eight-year-old son is with me…back at the motel, I mean. I told him I’d just be gone a minute—”

“You left an eight-year-old child alone in a motel room?” Dani blurted out in horror. If that wasn’t typical cowboy logic!

Ryan Given never wasted so much as a glance on her. “He’s probably wondering where I—”

“Sawyer is inside the station, Mr. Given. We picked him up two hours ago at the Garrett when the clerk called to report your disappearance.”

Ryan’s jaw dropped. “Two hours ago!” He glanced at the back of his wrist as though he usually wore a watch, which he didn’t now. “What the hell time is it?”

“Ten o’clock.”

“Damn!” Ryan leaped to his feet and immediately stumbled forward as if his legs were asleep. Or was he just dazed from his head wound? Dani wondered as both she and Cliff made a grab for him.

“Whoa, fella. Better take it easy,” Cliff said.

“But Sawyer—”

“Is just finishing two quarter-pound burgers, double fries, a large cola, and a fried pie. That boy can really put it away.”

Dani felt some of the tension leave the cowboy’s body. “You fed him?”

“We fed him.” Cliff grinned. “That’s quite a youngster you’ve got there, Mr. Given. Thanks to his description, I knew that you were who you said you were the minute I saw you,” the policeman continued, words that explained the reason he’d reholstered his gun.

Ryan relaxed so completely that Dani’s shoulders dipped under the weight of his muscled arm, now stretched across them.

“Dani, can you hang around long enough to give me your version of what happened tonight?” Cliff asked.

“I guess so,” she replied somewhat grudgingly. In truth, she wanted nothing more than to hightail it back to the sanctuary of her ranch. Dani, who worked hard to make her life an endless cycle of identical days, didn’t want or appreciate the excitement fate offered her this Christmas Eve.

At that reply, Ryan Given disengaged himself from both her and Cliff. When Dani automatically put distance between them, the cowboy gave her a once-over so thorough her entire body glowed with embarrassment. His expression said that what he saw did not impress him. Dani, who shouldn’t have cared less, nonetheless bristled.

“I guess I should thank you for bringing me back to Clearwater,” Ryan said. He put his fingers to the back of his head again and winced. His comment did nothing to soothe her ruffled feathers. His discomfort evoked no compassion.

“Don’t bother. I only did it because I thought you were one of the convicts who escaped this morning.” She turned to Cliff. “Have they been caught yet?”

“No, but it’s just a matter of time. We put out an APB right after the motel clerk saw them steal Mr. Given’s truck—”

“They stole my truck?”

Cliff nodded, his own expression full of the empathy Dani lacked. “We thought they’d taken you, too, as a hostage…speaking of which, your son is anxious for your safety. Why don’t we go on inside? I’ll tell you everything I know there, and we may even be able to rustle up another hamburger or two.”

Looking a little dazed, Ryan nodded. The two men then followed Dani into the station.

A good twenty minutes passed before Cliff, Ryan and Dani finally sat down in the break room to reconstruct the night’s events. She paid for her earlier lack of pity for Ryan by now blinking back tears that resulted from the emotional, if oddly restrained, reunion she witnessed between the cowboy and the young son who obviously adored him.

Admittedly interested in Ryan’s brief tale of attack, blow to the head and subsequent awakening—bound and gagged—in the trunk of her sedan, she nonetheless gave him only half of her attention. Sawyer Given, now watching an old black-and-white television in a corner of the room, owned the other half.

For an eight-year-old, he displayed remarkable maturity, she thought, recalling how solicitous he’d been of his father. Dani was not surprised by what appeared to be a role reversal. She was quite familiar with the phenomenon, having once cared for an irresponsible single parent such as Ryan.

That the man was single, she could only assume, of course. At any rate, there was no wife-mother on the scene, and neither Ryan nor Sawyer had mentioned one. Clearly, the boy was used to seeing to dear old dad. Dani resented the injustice, one she’d experienced herself as a fifteen-year-old when her rancher father died too young and her pampered mother, Eileen, became dependent on her.

Unbidden, scenes from the past, long suppressed, filled her head—scenes of cooking her own breakfast before school so Eileen could sleep late, scenes of nights at home alone while yet another sweet-talking man wined and dined her mother in town. Dani surfaced from the swirling eddy of memories with difficulty and only because she heard someone speak her name.

“Want to tell us your story now?” It was Cliff, and he sat with pencil poised over one of countless forms he’d undoubtedly have to fill out tonight.

“Not much to tell,” Dani replied. “I parked my car at Clearwater Café around seven o’clock—”

“In the back lot?” Cliff asked.

“Yes, the front one was full. I saw the Christmas trees at Smith’s Station next door, so I walked over there to get one before going into the café. I told Kyle—you know, Ed Smith’s youngest?—to tie down the trunk instead of locking it so the branches wouldn’t be crushed, then I went on inside the café to eat. It was awfully crowded, so I didn’t get out of there again until eight-thirty or so.”

“And you were where when you heard Mr. Given in the trunk?”

“Almost home,” Dani said with a sigh, wishing she were there now. Every muscle in her body ached with fatiguenot surprising since her Thursday had begun at 5:00 a.m. “I was talking to Jonni Maynard on that phone you insisted I buy—” she gave Cliff a smile “—when I first heard him banging around back there. I guess he’d just woke up.”

“Actually, I’d just freed my hands and was trying to get your attention,” Ryan grumbled. “I couldn’t make myself heard over your serenade.”

Dani glared at him to cover her embarrassment at being caught singing. “I turned off the radio the moment the phone rang. Why didn’t you try again then?”

“I wanted to hear what you had to say.” He shrugged. “I thought you were the one who locked me up.”

Dani huffed her opinion of that. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I hadn’t seen you, remember?”

Apparently, he could tell she wasn’t physically capable of hoisting him into the trunk. “I was referring to the radio. Didn’t you think it odd that someone who’d just mugged you would then sing Christmas carols all the way home?”

“Hell, lady, I—”

“Can’t you say a word without cursing?” She shot a meaningful glance at Sawyer, whom she considered to be at a very impressionable age.

To Dani’s surprise—she expected a “Mind your own business!”—Ryan followed her gaze. He flushed beet-red. “Sorry, ma’am. I guess I left my manners in the trunk of your car.” Looking somewhat subdued, he turned to Cliff. “Sawyer and I are in the process of moving to Wyoming, Chief Meeks. We’re going to buy ourselves a ranch there. Everything we own but one suitcase was on that truck, including our traveling cash.”

“We’ll do our best to get it back,” the chief said. “We’re beginning to get some information on the prison break now. I’ve had a phone call from a tourist who gave two guys in street clothes a ride from Cañon City to Clearwater. I’m pretty sure they were our men.”

“I’m just glad I didn’t clean out my savings account when we left Tulsa,” Ryan murmured with a shake of his head. “My boy and I’d be in a mess for sure—”

“You realize that your bank won’t be open again until Monday, don’t you?” The question fell off Dani’s tongue before she could stop it.

Ryan’s smile vanished.

“That’s three whole days away,” Dani continued. “What are you and your son going to do until then?”

“Oh, we’ll be okay,” Ryan told her, an idiotic reply if Dani had ever heard one.

How like a cowboy to play his cards close to his vest, Dani thought. Well, this time she didn’t need to peek over his shoulder to see what hand fate had dealt him. She knew. So did Cliff, if his frown was anything to go by. Dani waited for the kindhearted chief of police to invite Ryan and Sawyer home with him. Instead, he rose and motioned for her to follow him into the hall.

“How many horses are you boarding now?” he asked her when they were out of earshot of Ryan Given.

“Ten, counting mine,” she replied, wondering where on earth this was headed.

“Hmm. Running any cattle?”

“You know very well that I am.”

“Then I’ll bet you could use a little help around that place of yours…what with that big wedding of Barb’s just around the corner.”

Dani’s stomach began to knot. Surely Cliff wasn’t going to suggest—

“Why don’t you take Mr. Given and that boy of his home with you? They could help out for a while in exchange for room and board.”

Dani’s jaw dropped. This man, of all people, knew how she felt about cowboys, especially cowboys looking for homes on the range. “Are you kidding? I don’t even know this man. He could be a wife beater, a drug addict or a drunkard. He might have stolen that child in there from his mother—”

“He’s none of the above,” Cliff gruffly interjected.

“And how do you know that?”

“Motel had his truck license number. I ran a check on it and then on him.”

Dani sighed. Trust Cliff to be thorough.

“It’s destiny that’s brought him here. Destiny.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you living alone at that oversize ranch of yours, doing the work of two men.”

“I manage.”

“Now, yes. But you can’t keep it up, and you know it.”

“I knew this would happen!” Dani raged. “I should never have asked you for advice when Mick sold my timber rights to Duke Littlejohn. Now you think you can tell me how to run all my business.”

“Two heads are better than one.”

Dani sighed again. “In a crisis like that, yes. Everything is all right now—or will be once I finish that stupid wedding dress. I simply have no use for some deadbeat cowpoke and his kid.”

“He’s not a deadbeat. He’s just a little down on his luck. But forget him. Think of that boy of his…that eight-year-old boy. This is his first Christmas with his dad—”

“What?”

Cliff nodded. “I don’t know the whole story…just that Sawyer and his dad met for the first time in September. Do you really want them to spend their first Christmas together on the street?”

“So let them spend it with you and Ruth.”

“We’ve already got a houseful of her relatives or I would. You’re their only hope, Dani, girl. You, and you alone.”

“Don’t do this to me,” Dani groaned.

Cliff grinned, obviously sensing victory. “Just last week you were whining because you were going to be alone for the holidays. These guys’ll be company for you—company for Christmas—not to mention help when you need it most. Come on, honey. What do you say?”

“I say a cowboy is absolutely the last thing I wanted for Christmas,” Dani muttered as she turned abruptly on her heel and stalked back into the lounge. “Cliff seems to think you might be interested in working for room and board for a few days until you get your finances in order,” she said to Ryan.

“You mean, you’re looking for a hand?” he asked, perking right up.

“I haven’t advertised, if that’s what you’re asking,” she answered candidly. “I usually don’t need help around the place. Right now, though, I have another project going on…a wedding…and I could use a little assistance.”

Ryan sat in silence for a moment before he spoke. “When I left Oklahoma, I swore that the next ranch I worked on would be my own. Obviously that’s going to have to wait. I appreciate your job offer, and I accept.” Ryan stuck out his right hand, which she took after a moment’s hesitation. Firmly he shook it. “Thanks, um, I don’t believe I heard your last name.”

“Sellica,” she told him.

“Miss Sellica,” Cliff added, a clarification that earned him a dirty look from Dani.

“But not for long…?” Ryan looked from one to the other of them, as though waiting for them to explain something.

For a second, Dani couldn’t imagine what, then she figured it out. “The wedding I’m involved with is a friend’s, not mine. I’m sewing her dress, which has to be ready by December thirty-first. I’ve had to neglect my ranch work while working on it.”

“And now that we’ve settled that,” Cliff said a little too heartily, “why don’t the three of you hit the road? By the time you get to Dani’s, it’ll be half past Christmas.”

“Damn!” Ryan blurted out, the next instant intercepting Dani’s glare. “I mean darn. Sawyer’s present was in the back of my truck with everything else.”

“I have a remote-control race car you can give him,” Dani said quickly, without thought, as she glanced at the young boy watching TV on the other side of the room. When Ryan looked at her in surprise, she realized what she’d said. Shrugging, she explained, “I bought it for the son of a friend.”

“I’ll pay you back.” Clearly, Ryan was not comfortable accepting charity.

In spite of everything, Dani sympathized. Independent recognized independent. “Of course,” she agreed. “Now, if we just had the Christmas tree your convicts stole from my trunk.”

“They’re not my convicts,” Ryan muttered.

The sudden glint in his eye, coupled with the set of his chiseled jawline, startled her and hinted that there were other sides to Ryan Given than the side she now saw. Dani felt her stomach knot with uncertainty and something very like fear, the results of her dealings with another mystery cowboy not so long ago.

Swallowing hard, she vowed that this one would take his mysteries with him when he left on Monday. How could she be so sure? Because she would take no chances this time. Not for a moment would she let down her guard.

And because she would not, when Ryan and his son moved on, her ranch, her land, her money, and, most important, her just-repaired heart would still be intact.

Chapter Two

“How far is it to your ranch?” asked Sawyer, now nestled among Dani’s groceries in the back seat of her car. Ryan glanced over his shoulder at his obviously excited son and smiled. Though working as a cowhand on some two-bit ranch wasn’t at all what he’d had in mind on leaving Oklahoma, his boy clearly had no objections.

“Just fifty miles,” Dani told him. “But it usually takes about an hour to get there because the last ten miles are steep and curvy. This snow isn’t going to help us, either.”

“Hey, Dad,” Sawyer then said. “How’s your head?”

“It’s fine,” Ryan replied. He did not touch the wound, which had been cleansed and was remarkably tender to the touch.

“I see bologna and bread back here,” the boy said. “You want me to make you a sandwich?” Ryan had refused all offers of food at the police station.

“Those groceries belong to Miss Sellica,” Ryan quickly replied, with a glance of apology to Dani. Once he and Sawyer were alone, he’d make plain their destitute situation for the next few days and lay down the ground rules, the first of which was take as little charity as possible until Monday. That’s when he’d call his bank in Tulsa and have some money wired to him. Just how difficult such a transaction would be now that he didn’t have his savings book, his ATM card or even ID remained to be seen.

“Feeding you is part of the bargain,” Dani tartly informed him and then glanced back at Sawyer. “I have a regular picnic in those sacks—paper plates, napkins, cookies, chips. Why don’t you rummage through them and see what you can find for your dad to eat?”

“There’s no need, Miss Sellica,” Ryan began, even though his mouth watered at the thought of food.

“I insist,” Dani coolly replied, adding, “And you may as well call me Dani since I intend to call you Ryan. We don’t stand on formality around here.”

“Right,” Ryan murmured, once again put in his place. Damn, er, darn, but it rankled having a woman tell him what to do. Darn? Darn? Was he really censoring his very thoughts? Ryan flicked a glance of annoyance at Dani, the woman to blame.

Though not a beauty by any means, she had a nice enough face, what looked to be natural blond hair, cut short and shaggy, and big, brown eyes. Her shapeless denim jacket, which came nearly to her knees, hid what curves she had. A deliberate attempt to conceal her femininity? he wondered. And if so, why?

“Go ahead and make me a sandwich, Sawyer,” he said, though his son was already rustling through the plastic bags of groceries. Ryan said it to remind Dani who was the parent here. The look she gave him said he’d made his point.

Just then, they passed the Clearwater Café, now closed and dark inside. At once Dani stomped on the brake. Muttering an apology, she began to back up the car so that she could turn into the deserted parking lot. Moments later, she killed the engine and fumbled to unfasten her seat belt.

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked.

“I’m going to see if I can find my Christmas tree. Whoever stuffed you in my trunk had to have left it somewhere around here.” She felt all around on the floorboard of the vehicle. “What’d I do with my flashlight?”

“Forget the flashlight,” he told her. “Forget the tree. It’s too late to decorate it tonight, anyway. I’ll get you another one tomorrow.”

“With what?” she challenged, obviously referring to his lack of funds.

“With an ax,” he replied. “You do have at least one pine tree on your property, don’t you?”

“I have hundreds. I just prefer a Douglas fir for my Christmas tree. It’s sort of a Sellica tradition.” She sat in thoughtful silence, from all appearances in a real quandary about the switch in trees.

“For the sake of my aching head,” he said, “could you please dispense with tradition just this once?”

She looked at him with some alarm, no doubt remembering Cliff’s cautionary speech about possible concussions and certain headaches. “I guess a pine would be okay this year, but it’ll have to be perfect.”

“No problem,” Ryan said. “We’ll look until we find one, won’t we, Sawyer?”

“Yeah!” the boy exclaimed, clearly delighted with the idea. And no wonder—up until now, they weren’t going to have a tree at all.

Sawyer handed Ryan a paper plate that sagged with the weight of a thick sandwich, ridged potato chips, chocolate chip cookies and a giant dill pickle, plus a canned soft drink. The can, which had probably been in the car for hours, actually felt cool to the touch.

“Good job!” Ryan told his son, adding a proud grin to the compliment. Though times were a little tough now and might be for a while longer, he wanted Sawyer to feel secure in his love, at least.

While he set his plate in his lap and popped the top of the canned drink, Dani refastened her seat belt. Soon they were speeding down the asphalt two-lane again. Though little but the black of midnight could be seen through the window, Ryan nonetheless cherished what he could make out of the landscape whizzing by. Moving out West was the right thing for him and Sawyer. He felt it in his gut.

And even getting off to this bad start did little to dampen his enthusiasm. Certainly having his truck and all his worldly goods stolen amounted to a major setback, but the vehicle was insured, after all. As for his “worldly goods,” well, they didn’t really amount to much more than old clothes, a few hundred dollars in cash and a box or two of memories. It was the last he’d miss most, Ryan suspected. Clothes and cash could be replaced. The photographs, rodeo trophies and belt buckles that represented the high points of his life could not.

But he still had his son, Sawyer. Son. Though an undeniable reality—Sawyer had Ryan’s nose and his eyes—the concept of fatherhood continued to amaze him.

“Not far now,” Dani commented, words that brought Ryan back to the present with a jolt of surprise. A quick glance at the clock on her dash revealed that it was almost 1:00 a.m. Another glance confirmed that Sawyer was asleep, his head resting on Ryan’s jacket. Where had the miles gone? Had he, too, snoozed?

The car lurched sharply when Dani turned off the pavement onto a narrow, rutted and graveled road that disappeared into a dense stand of pines.

“We’re on my land now,” she said, pride in her voice. “A Sellica has lived on this mountain for ninety-four of the past one hundred years.”

“How may acres do you have?” Ryan asked.

“Only half of the original homestead, thanks to my stepfather’s getting the other half when my mother passed away three years ago.”

Ryan noted that her reply told him nothing about the size of the ranch. A deliberate evasion of his question? he wondered. “And you work the place alone?”

“Easily.”

They topped a small rise and her ranch suddenly lay before them, a loose gathering of buildings, all shapes and sizes, illuminated by a couple of strategically placed mercury vapor lamps. The main house was easiest to spot, since it was largest. There were several other buildings around it.

“That the bunkhouse?” Ryan asked as she braked the car to a halt near the side porch of the house. He pointed to a white frame building off to their left, which looked large for a ranch so small one woman could handle it alone.

Dani glanced off in that direction. “Yes.”

“Good.” He moved to get out of the truck.

“You and Sawyer can’t sleep in there.”

Ryan froze, his hand still on the door handle. “Why not?”

“Because it’s full of junk, not to mention mice and who knows what other little varmints.”

He waved away her concerns. “Just loan us a couple of pillows and blankets, and we’ll be fine.”

“No way.” She killed the engine and shook her head. “The two of you sleep in the house tonight.”

Ryan stared at her in disbelief and some irritation. He wanted to keep his debt to her to a minimum. “Lady, you don’t even know me.”

“So?” she retorted.

“So don’t you think a little caution is in order, here? I could be six kinds of psycho.”

“I could be, too.”

“All the more reason for Sawyer and me to sleep in the bunkhouse.”

“Are you saying you think I’d hurt you?”

“N-no, but—”

“We may as well clear this up right now,” Dani suddenly stated, turning sideways in her seat and hooking an arm around the neck rest. “Do you do drugs?”

“Never have, never will.”

“Ditto for me. Do you drink?”

“Only the occasional beer and not even that lately.” He glanced over his shoulder at Sawyer.

“Same here. Have you ever robbed a bank?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Me, neither. How about murder?” she asked next. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“Not no, but hell no,” Ryan said.

“Hmm. Well, though sorely tempted at times—”

Like when he forgot himself and cursed? Ryan wondered.

“—I haven’t, either. But is safety really the issue here? Or is it some misbegotten macho notion that you don’t want to take more from me than you have to?”

Ryan winced. Women and their intuition! It drove him nuts.

“For the sake of that boy’s Christmas,” Dani continued, her voice little more than a loud whisper. “Please just do what you’re told and stay with me tonight.”

Ryan glanced back at Sawyer, still sleeping like a babe. At once all the fight went out of him, and he sagged with defeat. “For the sake of that boy’s Christmas and only for that, I will.”

“Thank you. Now, could we please go inside? I’d really like to get a couple hours’sleep before I have to get up again, and I still have to phone my friend, Jonni, who’s probably out of her mind with worry by now.”

“You’re the boss,” Ryan replied—truth that rankled, truth he suspected he’d rue long before Lady Luck smiled on him again.

Ryan woke around seven o’clock on Friday morning feeling rested. Try as he might to go back to sleep, he couldn’t, and so crawled out of the narrow bed in which he’d slept. Dressed in a pair of jeans and a thermal undershirt, he tiptoed up the hall to make use of the single bathroom, then headed to the kitchen. Not hearing a sound, he assumed that Dani and Sawyer were still sleeping.

In a matter of minutes, Ryan located the coffeepot and coffee. He made short work of measuring out the grounds and the water, then set the pot on the stove and turned on the flame. While the coffee perked, he explored the front half of the house, which consisted of a dining room turned office, and a living room.

He liked the look of the place, which was too young to be antique, too old to be stylish, but just right, all the same. He saw no carpet on the wooden floors, just the occasional braided rug. The walls, most of them wallpapered in soft florals, were dotted throughout with what looked to be dozens of framed family portraits.

In the living room, Ryan spotted a pasteboard box labeled Decorations. Reminded that it was Christmas—a fact that had not crossed his mind yet—he walked back to his room, retrieved a heavy wool shirt from his suitcase and his boots from under the bed, and headed outside to what he assumed was the toolshed. With luck, he’d find an ax and chop down a tree before Dani even got out of bed, saving himself much traipsing around in the ankle-deep snow looking for the perfect one.

Ryan checked out the weather as he walked to the shed, noting with childish pleasure the cloudy sky and the crisp, clean smell of threatening snow. How he’d missed that smell the past twenty-three years. It was good to be home.

Home? Not by a long shot. Wyoming was their next home and no place else would do…even this picturesque Colorado ranch, nestled in the foothills of the Rockies.

Ryan reached for the door of the shed, only to hear the distinct thwack, thwack of an ax already in motion not too far away. Curious, he set out for the sound and in minutes came upon none other than Dani, chopping down a headtall pine. She wielded the ax rather awkwardly, he quickly realized, but he didn’t offer to help at once. Instead, he watched as she put her back into each swing, giving her bottom a provocative little wiggle in the process.

Her jacket lay in a heap on the snow. Thanks to the light of day, he had a better view of her than he’d had last night and so he took in the fit of her jeans and turtleneck shirt. No secrets today, he realized, relishing the full feminine curves her clothing revealed. Suddenly, Ryan felt the strongest urge to walk up behind Dani and press his body close.

He closed his eyes and imagined slipping his hands under her shirt and bra so he could cup his fingers around her bare breasts. Her skin would feel smooth as silk, he guessed, and her nipples soft…until he teased them to tautness, that is. Moving those same hands down her midriff in further exploration, he’d naturally encounter the barrier of her jeans. But what kind of barrier was a zipper or a snap to a man on fire?

“Hey, over there! Are you sleepwalking or what?”

With a guilty jolt, Ryan came to life and found that Dani had spotted him hiding behind the sapling just a few feet away. He felt his face glow crimson and could only hope that she didn’t notice the other physical evidence of his shocking, ill-timed fantasy, which now tested the buttons of his fly.

“Actually,” he said as he walked over to her, “I came out here for the same reason you did—to find a Christmas tree.”

“Were you going to pick it like a daisy?” She directed her gaze to his empty hands.

“Of course not. I heard someone out here and guessed it might be you. Naturally, I came to help.”

“So help,” she said, handing him the ax.

Immediately, Ryan tested the edge of the blade. “I could probably gnaw that tree down faster than this blade will ever cut it.”

Dani sighed. “The grinder is in the shed. Sharpening this ax can be your very first task as my temporary ranch hand.”

“Actually, making the coffee was my first task,” he retorted, adding, “Why don’t you go in and have a cup? You look as if you could use it.” In truth, her cheeks glowed scarlet with cold, and he noticed that her teeth had begun to chatter. Scooping up her jacket, probably shed for ease of movement, he held it out so she could slip into it.

Dani did, then gave him a smile. “I’m not the most wonderful cook in the world, but I’m pretty good with pancakes. Is that okay for breakfast?”

“Cook anything you like,” Ryan said. “We’ll never complain.”

They walked together as far as the toolshed, both silent. She did not stop since the door had been left ajar, but nodded a goodbye as Ryan veered off to duck into the building. He found the grinder, mounted on a sturdy wooden worktable, without any trouble.

While Ryan sharpened the ax blade, he tried to analyze the reasons for what had happened in the woods, from the sudden onset of his lustful fantasy, to its embarrassing physical result. Such an analysis proved next to impossible since Dani wasn’t the sort of woman who normally turned him on. As a rule, he preferred taller females, probably because of his own six-three height. Critical body parts—private parts—fit together best when the woman stood nearly heads even. Besides that, he favored brunettes, though, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t had much luck with them so far.

Maybe it was time for a blonde.

Time for a blonde? Ryan nearly dropped the ax. It wasn’t time for a blonde. It wasn’t time for any woman. He had a son now, an impressionable son who needed food and clothing, a son whose upbringing would require dedication and full concentration. The last thing Ryan needed was the distraction of some female. Not that Dani could ever really distract him. She couldn’t. Clearly, the problem was him. Deprived of the pleasures of sex for too long now, his libido was just a little trigger-happy.

Trigger-happy.

Ryan laughed aloud at that unfortunate metaphor. So his libido was trigger-happy, huh? Well, something told him he’d damn well better keep it holstered lest it get him kicked off Dani’s ranch. She had a chip on her shoulder the size of Pike’s Peak, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that a man—maybe even a cowboy—had put it there.

When the blade of the ax felt sharp to Ryan’s touch, he switched off the grinder and turned to head back outdoors, but paused first, giving the room a cursory examination. He saw a mess—clutter that could only result from years of neglect. Ryan, who despised a disorderly workroom such as this one, placed the cleaning of it high on a mental list of tasks he intended to accomplish over the next few days.

Just before he stepped through the door, he spied a basket, one of the kind so often sold at craft fairs for use as decoration. Ryan paused again, then impulsively scooped up the basket, which looked fairly new, by its handle. He could make use of it to remedy a situation that had bothered him all night.

Ax and basket in hand, he walked back to the pine tree Dani had picked out and quickly chopped it down. He left the tree where it lay for a few minutes while he searched for pinecones, easily visible in the sparse snow beneath some of the larger pine trees several yards away. There were plenty to choose from, ranging from small to huge. Ryan picked up quite a few and put them into Dani’s basket, which looked pretty dusty now that he had it out in good light.

Ryan tried to remember if he’d seen an outside water spigot. He couldn’t, and had almost decided he’d have to carry the basket indoors, thus spoiling what he’d intended to be a surprise, when he heard the unmistakable trickle of water. He froze, straining to hear the sound again. When he heard it a second later, Ryan followed it into the woods, where he soon stumbled onto a spring.

He wished for his camera to capture forever the beauty of the winter scene—snowbanks, trickling stream, gnarled tree roots at his feet, a canopy of tangled bare limbs over his head. Enchanted, Ryan knelt and dipped his hand into the ice-cold water, then raised it to his lips so he could sip. He grinned. Delicious!

Next, he proceeded to wipe down the basket with his hands, which were now red and rough from the cold. When it passed inspection, he set it down so he could gather some of the colorful pebbles lying all around. They were smooth and round, thanks to time and water flow. He laid them inside the basket with the pinecones.

He gathered other natural artifacts, all of which he tucked into the basket. In his mind’s eye, he arranged and rearranged everything. By the time he walked back to get the tree, he had a good idea what he wanted to do.

Leaving the basket sitting behind a wooden chair on the side porch and placing the tree near the door, Ryan stomped the snow off his boots and stepped into the kitchen. On the floor just inside the door, a Christmas-tree stand waited.

“Finally!” Dani exclaimed from where she stood frying bacon at the stove. Her smile said she wasn’t scolding, just impatient to get started decorating the tree.

Ryan noted that Sawyer had risen and dressed and was now helping Dani by setting the table. The boy did a good job, arranging the colorful plates on coordinating place mats and placing napkins and silverware to the side while she instructed.

“Actually,” Dani said, “I don’t know why I’m so anxious about the tree. We can’t decorate it until after breakfast, and that won’t be ready for another ten minutes.”

“Then I think I’ll go ahead and get the tree set up in the living room,” Ryan told her, lifting the stand and heading outside. Several minutes after, he reentered the house via the front door and proceeded to situate the tree in the stand. That accomplished, he stepped back to examine it. Dani had chosen well, he realized, noting the symmetry of the branches.

“It’s ready!” she called out.

Ryan returned to the kitchen and washed his hands, then joined them at the small, wooden kitchen table. Dani held out one hand to him across the food. The other she held out to Sawyer, seated to her right, an action that baffled Ryan until he remembered the old custom of joining hands to return grace. Somewhat awkwardly, he took her hand and extended his other one to Sawyer. Taking his cue from his dad, Sawyer quickly completed the link. Dani bowed her head, and in a clear, sweet voice, thanked her maker for their food, their shelter and each other.

She tried to release his hand immediately after her soft “amen,” but Ryan wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he tightened his grip slightly, a move that earned him a questioning look.

“I want you to know how grateful I, uh, we are to be here. You didn’t have to take us in.”

“It’s no big deal,” she said, clearly uncomfortable with his thanks.

“Maybe not to you,” he said. “It is to me. And I’ll never forget it.” That said, he released her.

Cheeks stained an attractive pink that had nothing to do with the cold, Dani could only stare at him for a moment before coming to life and thrusting a plate stacked with pancakes in his direction.

Ryan took the food, but instead of helping himself, he offered the pancakes to Sawyer, who forked a stack, the next instant exclaiming, “Look! Christmas trees.”

Christmas trees? Belatedly, Ryan realized to what Sawyer referred—the pancakes. Somehow, Dani had shaped each like a Christmas tree and decorated it with blueberries. And she said she couldn’t cook….

“Some of them are a little lopsided,” she said, shrugging self-consciously.

“I like ’em just fine!” Sawyer gleefully assured her. His grin stretched from ear to ear.

Oddly pleased that she’d taken such pains to make Sawyer’s Christmas breakfast so special, Ryan helped himself to a short stack of the “trees,” then passed the plate back to Dani. Butter and syrup came next, then the bacon. Soon everyone ate in contented silence.

“I like this,” Sawyer suddenly announced.

“Pancakes are my favorite, too,” Dani said.

“I’m not talking about them,” Sawyer told her. “I’m talking about us eating together. It’s just like at my friend Robby’s house. He sits at the table every single morning with his mom and dad and eats stuff like this.”

His mom and dad? Ryan nearly choked at the comparison.

Dani, however, looked amused. “And what do you usually do for breakfast?”

“Well, when I lived with Granny Wright in Arkansas, I always had cereal and milk,” Sawyer told her around a huge bite of pancake. Ryan bit back the urge to tell him not to talk with his mouth full. “Dad and I have doughnuts and cookies and stuff.”

Ryan felt Dani’s accusing gaze on him and squirmed in the chair. “That’s because you told me you didn’t eat cereal,” he said. “You know I don’t have time to cook in the mornings.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Sawyer hastily assured Ryan, as if afraid he might have hurt his feelings. “I like what we have.”

Dani said nothing—at least not out loud. But her expression spoke volumes, and Ryan saw curiosity and speculation in her eyes. At once, he made two mental vows, the first to keep his personal business to himself. As for the second, well, that was to drag his butt out of bed a little earlier from now on to cook his kid some eggs or something.

“Tell me about your Granny Wright,” Dani said to Sawyer. “How long did you live with her?”

“Until she died.”

Ryan bit back a smile at Sawyer’s innocent answer, which didn’t begin to answer Dani’s question.

“I’m sorry about your grandmother, Sawyer. I’m sure you miss her.” Dani took a sip of coffee, then tried again. “Where did you stay until your dad came to get you?”

“At Granny Wright’s house with Erica.”

“Erica?”

“My mom.”

“Your mom?” The words were a squeak of surprise. As though aware she sounded like a parrot, Dani hastily explained, “I’d assumed she was dead or something.”

Sawyer giggled as only an eight-year-old boy can. “No way.” He said nothing else, but went on shoveling pancakes into his mouth, an action that left Dani visibly frustrated.

Apparently giving up on getting information from the boy, she raised her gaze to Ryan. “You and Sawyer’s mother are divorced?”

Ryan shook his head. “We never married.”

“I…see,” Dani murmured, even though she couldn’t possibly. Clearly, her curiosity battled the need to protect Sawyer from whatever truth Ryan so obviously resisted sharing.

“Erica’s a movie star,” Sawyer offered as he reached for his glass of milk. “She don’t have time to take care of a kid.” He spoke the words as if he was quoting them…no evidence of blame or pain, just a flat statement of fact that stabbed Ryan’s heart.

Dani caught her breath, a soft sound Sawyer didn’t appear to hear. Without uttering a word, she rose suddenly from the table and walked over to the counter to stand for several seconds with her back to them. Sawyer went right on eating.

Ryan barely acknowledged Dani’s action, himself, since familiar fury roiled inside him, hot as a volcano about to blow. He’d felt it before, this all-consuming rage, this bitterness, and realized that it seemed to be getting hotter, more intense with each passing day. How long until eruption? he wondered. How long until he lost control and verbalized truths that his son did not need to hear about Erica, the “movie star” who didn’t want to be called mom because it made her feel old?

“What’s your favorite thing about Christmas, Dad?” Sawyer suddenly asked, an innocent subject change that forced Ryan to ignore the pain in his heart.

He had to suck in a deep, calming breath before he could answer. “Um, cookies, I guess. My aunt Mabel used to make the best Santa-shaped ones. They had this red icing on them and these little sparkle things, all colors.” He faked a smile. “Er, Dani, what’s your favorite thing about Christmas?”

Slowly, she turned and walked back to the table. She didn’t sit, but reached for her plate. Holding it as though she’d lost her appetite and couldn’t bear to look at the food, she said after a moment, “I’d have to say the tree.”

Ryan noted that her eyes shimmered suspiciously. Tears? Almost certainly, and a sure indication of a very soft heart. Since he’d never met a woman with one of those before, he didn’t quite know what to make of it or what to do about it.

Oblivious to Ryan’s bemusement, Dani smiled at Sawyer. “What about you? What’s your favorite thing?”

“This Christmas it’s everything!” Sawyer exclaimed, throwing out his arms as if to encompass all the magic of the season.

Dani laughed then, a light, happy sound that did much to cool Ryan’s rage at Sawyer’s mother. “Why don’t we leave all these dishes for now and get busy on the tree? I don’t think I can wait another minute!”

“All right!” Sawyer said excitedly, slipping from his chair and dashing out of the room. Ryan stood, too, and slowly walked toward the door.

Dani caught his arm, stopping him. “Just tell me this, and I won’t ask another question. Before last September, did you know you had a son?”

He met her probing gaze without a blink. “I did not.”

“Somehow I knew that.” Dani sighed and stepped close to slip one arm around his waist, gently hugging him to her side. “And I’m so sorry.”

Astonished by the unexpected display of sympathy, Ryan could do nothing more than return the embrace somewhat awkwardly by laying his arm over her back and shoulders. She hugged him harder in response. Almost instantly, Ryan felt the tension begin to drain from his body. Several seconds passed before Dani released him from the healing half hug and stepped away, tears on her cheeks.

“You saw the ornaments in the living room?” she asked, unselfconsciously swiping the drops away with her fingers.

He nodded.

“Then why don’t you go help your son get started. I’m going to pour myself another cup of coffee. Want one?”

“Sure.”

With a nod, she retrieved their mugs from the table and walked over to the stove. She poured one mugful, then turned to glance curiously at Ryan, still rooted to the spot near the door. “Something wrong?”

“Actually, I think something’s right,” he murmured-words straight from the heart and, therefore, uncensored. Words that seemed to surprise her as much as they did him. Embarrassed, he turned abruptly on his heel and left the room.

Only later, when the three of them worked at hanging colorful glass balls, homemade wooden stars and glittering icicles on the tree, did Ryan think about what he’d said to her in the kitchen.

Something was right at this moment. Or maybe a lot of somethings, now that he thought about it. For the first time in his young life, Sawyer was having a fun Christmas, something Erica’s stern, no-frills mother would never have tolerated. Ryan, himself, was seeing the holiday season through Sawyer’s eyes—a joyful, renewing experience he cherished.

And Dani…well, who knew about his mystery employer? From all appearances, she enjoyed having the two of them around to share her Christmas. Ryan couldn’t imagine why, since it was bound to mean more work for her. He silently vowed to make her efforts worthwhile by working his butt off for her until he hit the road. From the looks of the ranch, there was much to be done in the way of cleanup and repair, not to mention caring for the livestock.

On that thought, Ryan suddenly remembered the horses she boarded. “Do I need to feed and water the horses?”

“No ranch work on Christmas,” she told him, adding, “I put out extra feed yesterday,” as she hung a reindeer with a tiny light bulb for a nose on the tree. She threaded the green electrical cord attached to it up the branch then down the trunk, where she plugged it into the extension cord that would provide electricity to the rest of the twinkling tree lights when connected to the electrical outlet on the wall. Smiling with pleasure, Dani turned to Sawyer. “See Rudolph, here?”

The boy nodded.

“I won him at a school carnival when I was your age.”

“They had electricity then?”

His grin gave away the fact that he was joking, but Dani squealed and pounced on him all the same. They fell to the floor in a heap, both laughing hysterically as she paid him back for his teasing insult with torturous tickles.

“Save me, Dad! Save me!” Sawyer gasped.

Who could resist such a plea? Not Ryan, who instantly reached down and plucked Dani off his squirming son. She countered the move by reaching back to goose him in the ribs. With a yelp, he instinctively wrapped his arms around her, immobilizing the attack and putting her exactly where he’d put her in his delicious fantasy—back to front with him.

The all-woman scent of her assailed him. Her breasts, crushed under his arms, tantalized beyond endurance, as did her derriere, brushing his manly front every time she struggled to be free. With a soft oomph! of pure sexual overload, Ryan released her as abruptly as he’d captured her.

Clearly unaware of the state of his libido, unholstered again in spite of all his good intentions, Dani turned. “What’s wrong?” she demanded between pants for air.

“You stepped on my foot,” he lied.

Breathless, flushed, beautiful—yes, God help him, beautiful—she eyed his foot with visible regret. “Oh. I’m sorry. That’s what I get for fooling around when I should be decorating the tree.”

Fooling around? Ryan, who could think of nothing he’d enjoy more, gulped audibly and had to look away. Though he actually ached with the need to be lying face-to-face with Dani in a bed somewhere private—bodies bare, legs tangled, hearts afire—he nonetheless feared her.

Warmhearted, caring, she had the innate potential to wreak havoc on his and Sawyer’s future by setting precedents impossible to maintain. And, inevitably, whatever life he made with his son would suffer by comparison.

Chapter Three

“Tell me about this ornament,” Sawyer said. He held up a decoration shaped like a candy cane and sporting angled red-and-white stripes.

“My mother and I made that from salt dough when I was about your age,” Dani told him.

“Where’s your mother now?”

The question, uttered in innocence, brought back painful memories of arguments, partings, regrets. “She died years ago.”

“Do you miss her?” Sawyer asked as he draped an icicle over a branch.

Ryan shook his head at his son, clearly trying to discourage further questions. With a wave of her hand, Dani told him it was okay. “Sometimes.”

“Can I put the star on the top of the tree?” the boy asked.

“Sure,” Dani murmured, amazed by the agility of the eight-year-old mind, which could leap from death to tinsel stars in the blink of an eye. “Want the ladder, or can your dad lift you up there?”

“Dad can do it,” Sawyer said. Ryan obliged, a move that demonstrated impressive upper body strength and made Dani long to be captured in those powerful arms again.

Quite a sensation, that. Her heart rate still hadn’t slowed to normal.

“Ready to turn on the lights?” she asked.

“Yes!” Sawyer exclaimed.

Ryan did the honors, plugging the cord into the socket even as Dani turned off the overhead light. At once the tree twinkled red, blue, green and yellow. Sawyer whooped his delight and made it a point to see if Rudolph’s nose glowed red. It did.

“Do you suppose it’s too late for old Santa to find us?” Dani asked.

Sawyer’s smile faded just a little. “Probably, but that’s okay. We’ll have lots of presents next year in Wyoming, won’t we, Dad?”

“Sure thing,” Ryan agreed, exchanging a glance with Dani.

Later? she asked without words, hoping Ryan would allow her to surprise the boy by slipping the present under the tree sometime during the day. Ryan nodded as if he instinctively understood her plan.

Pleased, Dani excused herself to the kitchen, leaving the men to clean up what mess had been made and stash the decoration box in the toolshed. A woman with a plan, she made short work of clearing the breakfast things. She then mixed up sugar cookie dough, which she set in the refrigerator to chill, all the while keeping out an ear and an eye for the pair.

The sounds of their voices out back reassured her. Busy with who knew what, they laughed, talked and argued good-naturedly for the better part of the morning, during which she baked three dozen cookies, all shaped like Santa Claus and decorated with red icing and sprinkles. She didn’t examine her motives for trying to give Ryan something he’d said he loved for Christmas. It was enough that she could do this little thing for him. While the cookies baked, she stewed a hen for dinner, just as her mother and grandmother had always done on this special day. Christmas without hen and dressing would not be Christmas at all.

Just as she tucked the last cookie into a decorated tin, Sawyer burst into the room. “Do you have any construction paper?” he asked.

“Look in the bottom right-hand drawer of the desk in my office,” Dani told him, wisely not asking why he needed them.

“And scissors?”

“Middle drawer of the desk.”

“And glue?”

“Top left.” Still, she didn’t ask a single question. Sawyer rewarded her for her reticence with a smile as bright as the lights on their tree, then charged from the room.

I could get used to having this kid around, Dani realized, a thought that made her sad. Ruefully, she acknowledged that inviting Ryan and his son into her home probably wasn’t the smartest thing she’d ever done. By nature a people person, Dani had struggled hard to gain independence the last few years. Three days with these guys could well result in a crash landing back on square one and a resurrection of dreams long dead.

Was it worth it, just to have company for Christmas? Dani wondered. Nowhere near knowing the answer to that question, she peeked into the hall trying to locate Ryan and Sawyer. Since she heard their voices in the office, she felt safe to slip the tin of cookies and the remote-control car, originally purchased for Ricky, under the tree.

Then, suddenly inspired, she headed to her bedroom at the back of the house. In the walk-in closet, a ladder led to the attic. Armed with the flashlight she always kept by her bed, Dani climbed up into the spacious storage area. There, she perused an old bookshelf loaded down with board games, books and other toys saved from childhood—further evidence of her “sentimental softie” tendencies.

Armed with a like-new Monopoly game and a shoe box full of baseball cards—she’d been a tomboy from the get go—Dani descended the ladder again. Cleaning up the boxes took seconds, after which she wrapped them in colorful paper and added them to the stash under the tree.

The rest of the day passed in a pleasant blur of activity. They snacked on cheese and saltines for lunch, watched Miracle on 34th Street and A Christmas Story, then drank hot chocolate while they stood on the front porch and exclaimed over the silver-dollar-size snowflakes that began to drift to the ground around 4:00 p.m.

One eye ever on the Christmas tree and the packages that kept appearing so mysteriously under it, Sawyer fairly bounced off the walls in anticipation of the special dinner Dani had promised, not to mention the thought of opening his presents.

At last, dinnertime rolled around. When they finally laid down their forks and moved into the living room, all three of them were stuffed with hen and dressing. Dani, by now a little tired, settled into her favorite recliner and let Ryan run the show. He did so by allowing Sawyer to play Santa Claus and pass out the presents, the total of which had somehow multiplied again, this time without her help.

Her jaw dropped in surprise when Sawyer handed her a homemade Christmas card and something else, rather large, roundish and wrapped in newspaper.

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