Table of Contents

Cover Page

Excerpt

About The Author

Title Page

Epigraph

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Copyright

He couldn’t be Neil March! He just couldn’t!

He’d said his name was Rory. But…he hadn’t admitted his last name.

Maddie’s mind screamed for a logical explanation. Anything but the truth. Anything that would make this nightmare go away.

Neil March. The kind, gentle man named Rory who had been romancing her and little Nicky was Neil March, her sworn enemy.

She had very nearly given her heart to this man. Her foolish, foolish heart. Maddie couldn’t bare to face the truth. The man who had given life and laughter back to her and her son was Neil March.

How could it be?

DEBRA KASTNER

Deb is the wife of a Reformed Episcopal minister, so it was natural for her to find her niche in the Christian/inspirational romance market. She enjoys tackling the issues of faith and trust within the context of romance. Her characters range from upbeat and humorous to (her favorite) dark and broody heroes. Her plots fall anywhere in between, from a playful romp to the deeply emotional.

When she’s not writing, she enjoys spending time with her husband and three girls and, whenever she can manage, attending touring Broadway musicals and regional dinner theater.

A Holiday Prayer
Debra Kastner

www.millsandboon.co.uk

As in water face reveals face, so a man’s heart reveals the man.

—Proverbs 27:19

To my three precious daughters, Annie, Kimberly and Katie, who have brought so much joy and meaning to my life. Thank you for showing me every day what it means to have faith as a child.

And to Keith and Dena Rice, for the blessing and inspiration your music and acting have been to me. Keith was the first, and best, Phantom I’ve ever had the privilege of seeing. Thanks to you both, and to Mark Vogel, for granting me the honor of using your song in this book.

Prologue

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.

—Joshua 1:9

“Why won’t they just leave me alone?”

Maddie Carlton glared at the offensive pile of giltedged invitations crammed through the mail slot of her town house, then shook her head at her bulldog Max. “Don’t they have anyone else to bother?” Max lifted his soulful eyes to her and shook his jowls.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she mumbled. With a tired sigh, she bent down and retrieved her mail, tucking it under her arm as she shuffled into the kitchen. She hadn’t bothered dressing for the day, and was still in a frayed gray terry-cloth bathrobe and matted slippers.

It was her mourning outfit.

She usually dressed and showered before waking her six-year-old son Nicky, but today it was too much effort.

Christmas. Her first Christmas without Peter. And the anniversary of his death. All wrapped up in one morbid package.

The first months of grieving. Peter’s birthday. Their wedding anniversary. Each date came and went, the sun rose and set, and Maddie was still walking and breathing, still cleaning and cooking—though sometimes it amazed her.

Life went on. But it was always a struggle.

It was Nicky who kept her rising every morning, moving through the day. For Nicky’s sake she would do anything. Even get dressed when she felt like staying in bed, her head buried under mounds of covers.

With a cup of coffee to increase her fortitude, she slumped at the kitchen table, spreading her mail before her. Invitations, mostly. Every charity this side of the Mississippi River had heard of her tragedy, and every one of them wanted to partake of her monetary settlement, the flower that they believed grew from the ashes.

Maddie snorted aloud, causing Max, who was trying to nap at her feet, to sniff and give her his best doggie put-down for disturbing his rest. If he could, Maddie thought, he’d be rolling his eyes. As it was, he groaned, rolled to his feet, turned his back on her, and flopped to the floor again.

“Sorry, Max.” She took a handful of envelopes and flipped through them. Who wanted her money today?

She was about to toss the whole unopened lot into “file thirteen” when a bright green envelope caught her eye. Usually the invitations and pleas came in fancy silver or burgundy, or at the very least in a crisp business envelope.

In addition to being a merry Christmas green, this envelope had a child’s drawing of Santa and his reindeer.

Children’s Hospital.

Even the name made her tremble. The other envelopes dropped unnoticed to the floor as she ran a quivering finger across the seal.

For Children’s Hospital, she would at least take a look.

Chapter One

Father, I cannot see tomorrow, Father, I find it hard to pray, Father, feeling these tears of sorrow, Carry this weight…Show me the way. Open up my eyes, Open up my ears, Open up my heart. Father, hear my prayer.

—Heartfelt

An ocean of masked party-goers washed toward the Brown Palace Hotel, their laughter echoing in the cold evening air. Maddie closed her eyes, trying to recall the feeling of gurgling laughter caught in her chest, bubbling up into her throat.

Her heart felt void of any emotion but a sense of apprehension at being in the public eye, of being recognized as the Wealthy Widow, as the newspapers had dubbed her.

Country-bred bumpkin was more like it, party clothes or no party clothes.

She stared in awe at the majestic exterior of the historic Brown Palace Hotel, a landmark sandwiched between office buildings in the heart of downtown Denver.

God help me. She sent up a silent prayer. This isn’t going to work without your intervention. She reached inside herself, searching for a snippet of peace that would make this night easier, but found nothing. Nothing. She was little more than an empty shell.

It had taken her years to adjust to being a suburban housewife on the outskirts of a big city, used as she was to her small hometown in eastern Colorado. No way would she ever fit in among an ostentatious crowd of silver-lined philanthropists. Even with a mask she was bound to give away her small-town roots.

Happily-ever-after storybook endings didn’t exist. She was hard proof of that. Perhaps her sparkling Cinderella satin gown and glass slippers were more appropriate than she’d imagined. That irony crowned her, just as sure as the faux-diamond tiara she wore.

She wasn’t looking for Prince Charming. She’d already had her one true love. Memories would have to be enough to bolster her through the remainder of life.

She ought to turn right around and go home where she belonged. She glanced back at the street, but the taxicab that had dropped her off in front of the hotel had long since vanished.

Maddie decided to walk back to 16th Street, where she could catch a bus back to her own neighborhood. She didn’t really want to be alone in a crowd. Alone at home was easier to handle. She was still too used to having Peter by her side. Single was not her style.

And maybe it never would be.

She was looking at her see-through, plastic “glass” pumps, and didn’t see the crowd approaching her until it was too late. A festive jumble of costumed people whirled her into their midst and, seeing she was also incognito, whisked her along with them into the hotel.

She fought to be released, but an older woman with a dozen glittering rings on one hand looped her arm through Maddie’s, giving her little choice but to follow the others into the dark, panel-floored atrium. She sighed. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” she quoted to herself.

“Exactly, dear,” said the old woman with the rings, who stood at Maddie’s side. Maddie had forgot that she wasn’t alone, or she certainly wouldn’t have spoken aloud. The gray-haired woman put a hand to Maddie’s back and gave her a gentle nudge in the direction of the music. “Might as well take a peek, dear heart, since you’ve come this far.”

The voice was filled with such authority that Maddie swiveled to catch her expression, but the woman was already tottering toward a group of friends, waving her arms enthusiastically at a big, black bear.

She could see the second floor of the hotel through broad arches, and again felt a quiver of dismay at finding herself among a class of people who would frequent such a place. She felt like a church mouse in a grand cathedral.

Courage, Maddie, she mentally coaxed herself. These people put their pants on the same way you do. Get a grip on it.

She wandered tentatively into the ballroom, which had been transformed into a winter wonderland. Billowy cotton clouds hung from the ceiling, sequins glittering from their depths, and many-faceted paper snowflakes graced the walls. Pillar-like lamps wrapped with festive, pungent pine boughs surrounded the dance floor, giving the room a candlelit kind of glow. A twelve-piece orchestra played a lively Chopin waltz in one corner of the ballroom. Already, couples were whirling around the dance floor in time to the music.

The effect was magical, and Maddie experienced the temporary, giddy feeling that she’d been transported to another time and place. Was this how Cinderella felt when she walked into the prince’s palace? She took a deep breath and smoothed down the satiny folds of her opaque silver gown. Cinderella. Would it hurt to pretend? Just a little? And just this once?

Just for tonight, she promised herself. She was in a mask, after all, and had her hair and face made up. No one would recognize her. If the night went well, she might not even recognize herself.

Groups of chattering people mingled around the perimeter of the hall, while others sat at tables before plates mounded with food from the buffet in the next room. Everyone she saw was lavishly costumed— from a portly lion and his chair-wielding lion-tamer wife to Santa and Mrs. Claus.

What if one of the masked men in the room was Neil March? The unspoken question hit her with such sudden force that she nearly reeled. Her stomach tightened as she fought the nausea she felt every time she saw or heard his name.

It was Neil March’s fault that she was here tonight. Alone.

Irrational though it might be, Maddie blamed Neil March for Peter’s death. There was so much anger, so much pain. It had to be channeled somewhere and Maddie had, whether consciously or not, transferred her negative feelings to Neil March. He was, after all, the owner of the department store and in her mind, that made him responsible.

The report by the fire department had cleared March’s of any wrong doing, but she clung stubbornly to her own suspicions. Authorities could be paid off to keep their findings a secret and if there was one thing Neil March had plenty of, it was money. Hadn’t he tried to buy her off as well?

Her stomach clenched and she scanned the room in earnest.

What if he was here? Maddie gasped fighting the waves of panic.

No. Neil March wouldn’t be here. He was a playboy, not a philanthropist. What he’d paid her at Peter’s untimely death had been nothing less than blood money. Not offered out of generosity. And definitely not offered out of compassion. Of that she was certain.

Though she knew him to be a practiced businessman, she pictured Neil as a young, arrogant preppie, complete with khaki pants and a designer polo shirt with the collar flipped up on his neck. He’d have a tennis racket slung over one arm and a gorgeous blonde on the other.

She didn’t recall seeing any preppie tennis players here tonight mingling amongst the guests.

She snorted at her own joke. It was the closest she’d come to laughing since Peter had died. The sober thought dropped the smile from her lips.

Neil March was certainly nothing to laugh about.

“Excuse me.” She flagged down a passing waiter. “Do you have water?” She realized she sounded like a dehydrated camel after days in the desert, but the waiter remained straight-faced. “Of course, madam.”

Moments later she was gulping down a glass of water, coughing and sputtering when it went down wrong. She pounded a fist against her chest to dislodge what felt like a boulder. “Maddie, you have to relax!” she muttered under her breath.

“Hey! Check it out. Now that’s a costume and a half!” a young blonde in a tennis outfit said, grabbing Maddie by the elbow.

There went her theory that there were no tennis players here tonight. The young woman was the gorgeous blonde half of her Neil March scenario, with white culottes that put the short in shorts. Bleach blond hair and a knockout tan in the dead of winter?

Intrigued, Maddie looked to where the blonde was pointing her tennis racket. Something had clearly captured her attention.

Standing in the doorway, his feet braced and hands on his hips, was the Phantom of the Opera, handsome despite the fact that the upper half of his face was masked in stark white.

She was immediately struck by his impressive bearing and thick, broad shoulders. His black cutaway tuxedo was covered with a many-caped greatcoat, fastened at the neck amid snowy-white ruffles. His presence was intense and powerful, and Maddie could see that she wasn’t the only woman inexplicably drawn to his mask and the thick black hair curling down around his collar.

He appeared to be looking for someone, his strong, thin lips turned down at the corners in just the shadow of a frown.

His gaze passed where she stood, then moved back again, as if he were taking a second look. No doubt he was, since Ms. Short-shorts was still holding on to Maddie’s elbow. She was exactly the sort of woman to make a man do a double take.

Maddie wasn’t surprised when he strode toward them. The young woman dropped her tennis racket to her side and stood with one hand on her hips, greeting the Phantom with a brilliant smile.

Oddly enough, Maddie had the peculiar sensation that he was watching her, coming for her, as if he’d picked an old friend’s face from a crowd. And it sent shivers down her spine. But of course that was nonsense. He was coming for the blonde.

With unconscious grace, he unhooked the cape and swung it around, folding it across a chair. Maddie’s heart leapt to her throat, and she nearly dropped the water glass that she held in her hand. This man was definitely not an old friend.

She would have remembered such a compelling gaze, the way his dark eyes burned through the stark whiteness of the mask…and especially that confident swagger that caught the attention of every woman he passed.

Her head spun as the man grew nearer. She was vaguely aware of the sound of her own breath heavy in her ears, the pounding of her heart in her head.

Now, he was in front of her, looking straight at her. As if he knew her. But there was no way he could recognize her through her mask. And even if he could see her face, it was improbable that he’d know her. How could he? She wasn’t part of this crowd.

Perhaps that was the problem. Did she stick out like a weed among orchids? Maybe she looked like the grungy suburban housewife that she was, as out of place as a child at a grown-up party.

He grinned then, the smile starting at his lips and emanating from his obsidian-black eyes behind the mask. His smile encompassed both Maddie and the primping blonde at her side.

So that was it. He was being polite, figuring Maddie was Ms. Short-shorts’s friend. And he was probably wondering how to get rid of her.

Well, she’d make it easy for him. She didn’t know why Goldilocks had latched on to her in the first place, and she had no qualms about bowing out when she wasn’t wanted. She dislodged her elbow from the blonde’s grasp just as the Phantom held out his hand and gestured toward the dance floor.

Let’s move it, sweetie. He’s obviously asking you to dance, and he isn’t going to wait forever, Maddie thought uncharitably, wondering why the woman’s grip on her elbow had tightened. What was this woman’s problem? Not a tough decision, especially for one as used to society charity balls as this girl seemed to be.

She glanced to her side. The young woman stared at Maddie with a mixture of disbelief and pique, then glanced at the Phantom. She swung her astonished gaze to Maddie, and, with an unladylike snort, flounced away in a huff.

Either the woman was crazy, or a complete idiot. And the Phantom had just been jilted. She turned to the man and offered a regretful shrug and a tentative smile.

The dark-haired man combed his fingers through the curls at the back of his neck. “Well?”

Maddie cocked her head. “Well?” she repeated.

“Dance with me.”

His voice was as low and rich as she’d imagined it would be. And she had definitely imagined the words.

Dance?

His eyes lit with amusement at her hesitation.

“Weren’t you asking Goldilocks to dance?” she blurted.

“Who?” The Phantom looked genuinely perplexed.

“You know.” Maddie tipped her head in the direction the blonde had disappeared. “The tennis player.”

The Phantom chuckled. “Not a chance. She’s a little young. And definitely not my type. I was asking you to dance.”

He was asking her to dance. And the orchestra was breaking into a slow ballad even as they spoke.

She nodded and took the hand he extended.

She felt a twinge of guilt when he swept her into his arms. It felt awkward. She hadn’t danced in ages. And for so many years it had only been Peter.

Peter’s arms. Peter’s whisper.

She felt the electric heat of the Phantom’s hand on her hip and her mind clicked into gear. A wave of panic surged over her.

Oh, Lord, what have I gotten into now?

She’d come here to support Children’s Hospital, not to dance. It was too much, too fast. To be dancing in another man’s arms, feeling another man’s heartbeat against her palm. Guilt turned the screw. Was she betraying Peter’s memory?

But Peter was gone. The Phantom was here, and his light embrace was not unpleasant. Besides, it was only one dance.

While Peter couldn’t dance to save his life, the Phantom was clearly a dancer, swaying easily in time to the music. Peter had been lean and lank, but her fingers now burned with the feel of the Phantom’s thick, rippling biceps. And he was shorter than Peter had been, though still a good head taller than Maddie. She would, she thought with an uncomfortable flutter of her stomach, fit right into the crook of the man’s shoulder.

As if he read her thoughts, he smiled at her.

At last, an imperfection. She was beginning to think that he was perfect in form and face—or at least what she could see of it. But his smile was crooked and little-boy adorable.

He chuckled low in his chest and his dark eyes sparkled with mirth. He lowered his head until his warm breath tickled the sensitive skin of her neck, sending shivers of delight down her spine. “You’re staring at me.”

Maddie felt as if he’d jolted her with a white-hot bolt of electricity. With a whimper of dismay, she attempted to shrug out of his arms.

His hand on her hip tightened in response. “Don’t run,” he implored in a throaty whisper. “Please. I was only kidding.”

She grimaced and tittered nervously. “I apologize. It’s just that I…”

He lifted his hand from her hip and gently placed his forefinger over her lips. “No. You don’t have to explain. Just dance with me.”

She nodded, losing track of her thoughts in liquid black eyes reminiscent of some Native American ancestor and confirmed by his angular features and aquiline nose.

He shifted slightly, pulling her into his chest so that his hand now rested at the small of her back. It was a modest gesture, but enough for her to feel the rock-hard ripples of his shoulder under her cheek.

She inhaled deeply, then fought the sense of guilt assaulting her even as the faint spice of the Phantom’s aftershave made her nostrils tingle.

Oh God, she prayed as grief washed over her. How she missed Peter.

Deep inside her heart, the part of her that had agonized through every lonely night, mourning Peter’s death, facing the achingly empty king-size bed alone, struggling through empty days, needed to move closer into the embrace of her Phantom gentleman.

She was relieved that he wasn’t trying to make idle conversation. She didn’t want to talk. She just wanted to be held. If only for a moment. To feel the brush of warm breath tickle her ear. To revel in strong arms encircling her waist.

But how could she?

She pulled back, opening the space between them. She should turn around and walk away. This instant, while she still had the strength to do so.

The Phantom’s warm hand lightly resting on her back sent shivers up her spine that had nothing to do with cold. Her spirit soared.

With a deep inner sigh, she allowed him to draw her closer. Being in his arms felt good and right. She would face her regrets tomorrow.

For tonight, she was going to dance.

Chapter Two

The Phantom leaned back to study the petite woman in his arms. Her face, framed by cinnamon-brown hair, was rosy with color. In her silvery ball gown and glass slippers she made a perfect Cinderella.

Though he still wasn’t certain why, she’d caught his eye the moment he had entered the ballroom. Perhaps it was because she looked small, and shy, and completely ill at ease.

He suspected that there was a latent fireman in him someplace, because she looked just like a little lost kitten stranded in a treetop. He felt like grabbing a ladder and rescuing her. Putting a smile on her heart-shaped face, a sparkle in her shadowed brown eyes.

He shifted forward so he could feel the satin softness of her cheek against his. Immediately, he felt her muscles bunch as if she were preparing to spring from his grasp.

She seemed as jumpy as a jackrabbit being chased by a fox. But if she wanted to run away, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go. There was something familiar about her—something he couldn’t name, but which compelled him to keep her close.

He hadn’t even planned to come to the benefit in the first place. He rarely went out anymore.

And he never danced. What had drawn him onto the dance floor was as much a mystery to him as was the woman in his arms.

It didn’t matter anyway. He was here now. And he didn’t plan to leave. Or to let her go.

His face lingered near her bare shoulder, inhaling her light, musky fragrance. She wasn’t smothered in expensive perfume like most women of his acquaintance. No. She smelled like…

Moonlight.

If there were any way to blot out the nightmare of thoughts haunting him, it would be this beautiful woman.

He leaned back and smiled down at her, feeling her body stiffen when his gaze met hers.

Why was she so afraid?

His throat tightened at the look of utter helplessness in her huge brown eyes, and he became suddenly determined to change the course of her evening.

Before the night was through, he vowed to himself, he would hear the sweet sound of her laughter.

Maddie expected him to release her after the song ended, but he continued to sway back and forth as if the orchestra continued to play. She glanced around the room, terrified that she was making a spectacle of herself, but no one seemed to notice the still-dancing couple.

Moments later she heard the shrill wail of a saxophone and sagged with relief as the Phantom adjusted their steps to the beat of the new song. He was obviously determined to enjoy the evening. With her.

Well, so was she. With him.

“What’s your name?” he whispered into her ear.

Maddie stepped back and curtsied playfully. “I thought you would have guessed by now,” she teased. “Cinderella, of course!”

The Phantom let out a full-bodied laugh that caused those dancing around them to peer at them curiously.

“We’re going to play games, are we?” He took a step back and gave an elegant bow. “I guess that would make me your Phantom.”

Maddie was more than content to leave the introductions at that. They would all unmask at midnight, after all. If she stayed that long…

She had a sneaking suspicion she just might.

For the moment she was content just to remain in his arms and lose herself in the music. It was pure magic, and she didn’t intend to waste a single moment.

The song came to a close and the orchestra’s lead violist surprised everyone by breaking out in a fiddling tune. In moments a country line-dance was formed.

Her Phantom chuckled and drew her to the edge of the floor. “Sorry, love. I don’t do country.”

Maddie shrugged. It wasn’t hard to smile. Country wasn’t her style, either. “I’m ready for a break.”

The Phantom indicated a chair and held it for her, while she gathered her skirts and sat. “Are you thirsty? Why don’t I get you some…” His sentence trailed off.

She looked up, surprised. His eyes were cloudy and unreadable. He seemed to be sidetracked by something at the far corner of the ballroom.

She followed his gaze but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Unless it was one of a number of beautiful young women over there.

She replied, “No, that’s okay. I’m not thirsty.”

But the Phantom was not listening. He was already walking away from her, his mind obviously elsewhere. As if with great effort, he tossed one quick glance back at her. “Excuse me. I’ll just…”

And then he was gone.

Maddie sighed and crossed her arms over her chest, though she could feel a hesitant smile still hovering on her lips.

Her fantasy was over. And she really should be angry with the man for abandoning her so abruptly. But the lovely warmth, telling her that she still had a heart, lingered. She felt alive, really alive, for the first time in years.

There would be no regrets. It didn’t matter that she’d been deserted for fresher prey. She was more than content just to sit here and watch wildly costumed dancers wiggling to some latest craze in line-dancing.

One young man, dressed most appropriately as a rooster; was crowing loudly and shaking his tail feathers in wild abandon. The music did sound rather like a clucking chicken.

She felt a small rumble building deep in her chest, growing promptly into full-fledged laughter. She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from appearing rude.

But not to stem the flow of laughter. It felt so good—better even than whirling around on the dance floor. She felt like leaping up and shaking her own tail feathers.

Laughter scoured her insides clean. Maybe she’d get really brave and find a partner for one last dance.

“That chicken is really something.” The rich, soft, unmistakable baritone came from behind her, next to her ear. Her Phantom was back.

Her heart leapt into her throat, her head buzzing with excitement and the purely female thrill of attracting a handsome man. Not once, but twice. “Yes, he is, isn’t he?”

The Phantom chuckled. “I meant the music. It’s called ‘The Chicken.’ I guess ‘cause it sounds like a chicken clucking.”

Maddie grinned. “I noticed.”

“What do you say we get out of here for a while?” he whispered.

It had been a few years, but his words sounded distinctly like a come-on. She cocked her eyebrow. “Out?”

He grinned and held up his hands as if to ward off her unspoken accusation. “Just out for a breath of air and some peace and quiet. That’s all. I promise. Promise.”

“Oh, but they’re going to unmask at midnight!” she protested, though it sounded weak, even to her. She was being worn down, and his wink told her that he knew it. But she really did want to dance again before she left. Desperately.

“Never fear. We’ll be back before then. Come on, let’s get some air.”

Maddie cast one last disappointed glance at the dance floor, then shrugged. It wouldn’t hurt to leave for a few minutes. And he’d promised to be back before they unmasked. She hoped they’d have one more dance together before the night ended.

He led her to the door and assisted her with her coat. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Surprise?” she repeated lamely, and then wondered at the wisdom of following an unknown man onto the streets of downtown Denver. A woman couldn’t be too careful. And she was no innocent child.

She searched his eyes for some sign of his intentions, but found only a gleam of humor lurking in their black depths. He wasn’t giving anything away.

At least not yet. But he wasn’t the least bit threatening.

He raised a questioning eyebrow over the top of the mask.

The decision was hers. She glanced back into the ballroom and the safety it represented.

The Phantom stood patiently, arms crossed over his thick chest and a half smile lingering on his lips. She had the niggling impression that he sensed the dilemma she was working through and was certain of the outcome.

She stood undecided for a moment more, knowing what she would do and waiting for the rational part of her brain to call her an impulsive fool. She instinctively trusted her Phantom. He was strong, but gentle. If she were going to gamble with her safety, she would bet on this man.

She nodded slowly. “All right. Let’s go.”

A gust of crisp Christmas air hit them as they stepped out of the hotel, causing Maddie’s lungs to burn. It was a pleasant sensation, she decided. She carefully watched her steps on the icy pavement. Glass slippers weren’t exactly winter weather gear, and she found herself wishing she’d worn her thick leather snow boots.

She slipped and giggled. The Phantom quickly clasped her arm, but not fast enough to keep her from sliding unceremoniously to the ground in a heap. The picture of herself in a satin dress and snow boots sent her into another fit of giggles.

It felt good. Very good.

“Your surprise…” the Phantom reminded her.

He reached a hand to help her to her feet, then pointed at the curb. Her heart pounded as she got her first hint of the Phantom’s scheme, which was at that moment stomping its impatience into the pavement. She clapped a hand over her mouth and exclaimed in delight over the slick white horse-drawn carriage, complete with a liveried driver.

“Oh, it’s lovely!” she exclaimed as he settled her on the seat and wrapped a wool blanket around her legs. “But aren’t we going to freeze?”

The Phantom chuckled and draped an arm around her shoulders. “No chance of that. We’ll just take a short ride down the 16th Street Mall. Have you seen the Christmas lights yet? They’re gorgeous this time of night”

Maddie shook her head. This was truly a night she would remember for a long time to come. If she believed in fairy tales, she’d think she stepped right into one. Even the crisp air couldn’t dull the heat warming her cheeks.

Motioning for the driver to stop, her Phantom gestured at the forty-three-foot Christmas tree in Larimer Square, the largest to be found in Denver.

“Didn’t I tell you it was beautiful?” he whispered, his breath fanning her cheek.

She turned her face toward him, expecting him to be watching the Christmas display, hoping to be able to study his masked face. His eyes met hers, and she suddenly realized that he’d been watching her, seeing the wonders of Christmas in downtown Denver through her, sharing in her delight

Her breath mingled with his, their lips only inches apart. His dark, intense gaze probed hers. It would take only the merest action on her part…just a shimmer of movement and their lips would meet.

Dragging in a breath, she turned away. How could she even consider…? But she had. She did. Guilt ripped through her like a rudder blade on the snow.

She had no right. And even less sense.

“Drive on,” her Phantom commanded, leaning back in the seat. She was afraid to look at him, afraid of what she would see in his eyes.

If only he would take that blasted mask off and she could see him as a real human being instead of the larger-than-life Phantom of the Opera. It was just that fairy-tale feeling again, getting the best of her. He was only a man underneath that mask. A plain, ordinary man. Maybe even disguising some hidden flaw.

The corner of her lips quivered into a smile.

“A penny for your thoughts,” he whispered. On the inside of her wrist, he planted a tiny kiss that radiated heat up the entire length of her arm.

She tried to ignore the sensation. “As if I’d sell them so cheap.”

The Phantom lifted an eyebrow. He was intrigued by this bright-eyed Cinderella, more so than he wanted to put a value to. “A million dollars, then.”

She stiffened.

“What? What did I say?” He’d been teasing, but by the look on her face, he could tell he’d said the wrong thing. She went as hot and then cold as a kitchen tap.

“Nothing.”

Nothing. No more than she had told him all evening. And why should it matter? He wasn’t in the market for a relationship. He should be glad she wasn’t pressing him.

But he wasn’t glad.

Who was this woman? He’d been stretching his mind for the answer, but the mask continued to throw him. He’d seen her somewhere—he knew he had.

But how to coax her from her shell? Flattery didn’t work. With a teasing lilt to his voice, he appealed. “Tell me your name.”

Maddie’s brown eyes sparkled mischievously. “Not just yet. You’ll find out soon enough, in any case.” She gently removed her arm from his grasp and laced her fingers together on her lap. “Tell me about you.”

“Okay,” he agreed easily, leaning back into the cushion and laying his arm over the back of the seat. Perhaps if he opened up, she would feel more comfortable revealing something about herself. He barely dared to hope.

“I work for a large company in the area. I play racquetball and golf. I like pizza and Pepsi. Anything else you want to know?”

“My, my,” Maddie bantered. “Vague, aren’t we? A large company in the area? That hardly narrows it down. What kind of business?”

“Enough about me,” he countered, combing his fingers through the curls on his neck. “Tell me about you.”

Maddie didn’t want to talk about herself. Not tonight. She lifted her chin. If he could be stubborn, so could she.

The Phantom chuckled again. “We all have secrets, don’t we?” he said before tapping the driver on the shoulder. “A rose for the lady, please.”

The driver nodded and pulled to the side of the road, gesturing to one of the many corner flower vendors peddling their wares to the late-night Christmas shoppers. “I need a rose,” he rasped.

The Phantom presented the single, long-stemmed red rose to Maddie with an endearingly crooked grin. “A beautiful flower for a beautiful lady.”

Maddie’s breath caught in her throat. “I…I…”

The Phantom frowned and he rolled his eyes.

“What?” Maddie asked in surprise.

“I think I’ve just blurted out the most inane line in history. And it’s all your fault. One look at you and my mind gets all mixed up.”

He was teasing her, she knew, but nonetheless she could feel the heat staining her cheeks crimson. She took refuge in inhaling the rose’s intoxicating scent. The petals still had moisture on them, and they glistened in the dull light of the street lamps.

“Won’t you tell me your name?” he pleaded quietly, his rich baritone rolling over each syllable. “We’re going to unmask soon anyway. What difference will a few minutes make?”

She stared at her hands clasped in her lap. Maybe he was right. What was the difference? She glanced over at him, but he was staring off into the distance. “Maddie Carlton,” she whispered, her breath misting the air.

His gaze snapped to hers, boring into her with such intensity that Maddie felt suffocated.

“You’ve heard of me,” she said quietly, removing the now unnecessary mask from her face. “I lost my husband in the March’s Department Store fiasco last Christmas. My only claim to fame is that Neil March settled me with a ridiculous amount of money.”

The Phantom’s jaw tightened and he looked away. She could see the tension lining his face, causing the muscles in his neck to strain against his cravat.

Maddie unconsciously leaned away from him, wondering what she’d said that had set him off.

He obviously didn’t like what he heard. He probably expected her to be some debutante from old money, not a widow with a tragic past and a son to boot.

Well, the truth had to come out sooner or later. There was nothing she could do about it if he was disappointed. None of this was real, anyway.

His eyes became dull and shaded, the fire in his eyes extinguished as effectively as if it had been doused with water.

The fairy tale was over, blown sky high by her own big mouth. She should have kept her identity a secret, she silently reprimanded herself. She should have extended the fantasy—for what it was worth—as long as possible.

She stared out onto the darkened street and sighed deeply, remembering. She hadn’t even threatened March with a lawsuit or anything. She hadn’t wanted a penny of his money. It had just showed up in the mail one day—a certified check for half a million dollars. The first of six checks! Even now she found it hard to comprehend.

She turned back to face him, wondering at his silence.

His dark eyes were full of a mixture of regret and—What was it? Pain? Anger?

She never had the opportunity to find out.

Tapping the driver on the shoulder, he demanded the carriage be stopped. “I’ve got to go.” The words were softly spoken but cut into Maddie’s heart as if he’d screamed.

He cleared his throat, then shook his head as if he had decided against explaining further. Tentatively, he reached forward, brushing the inside of his thumb along her cheek in a featherlight caress.

“I…” he said, his voice husky. He leaned forward, his eyes never leaving hers. For Maddie, time moved in slow motion as she waited breathlessly for his lips to meet hers.

When the moment came, she closed her eyes, savoring every touch, every sensation, storing up for the long, empty nights ahead. His lips were cool and firm, but his breath was warm.

With a sigh, he leaned forward, deepening the kiss, just for a moment.

Maddie wanted to cling to him, but she clenched her hands in her lap, willing them not to betray her, shaking so hard that she was sure he could feel it.

“Oh, Maddie,” he whispered against her lips, the words deep and razor-sharp.

She opened her eyes when he abruptly pushed away from her, the sweet taste of his kiss still lingering on her lips.

Without another word, he jumped out of the carriage and strode away, disappearing into the darkness.

Chapter Three

Maddie sighed and brushed a stray tendril of hair from her forehead. She felt hot and sweaty and her muscles ached from carrying boxes up from the basement. Yet she hadn’t ventured to open a single one of the cartons that now filled her living room.

It was the handwriting scribbled in wide, black marker ink that stopped her.

Peter’s handwriting.

Christmas. The boxes set aside for the happiest time of year, laden with bright and glittering decorations that she knew would delight her young son.

But the sight of the festive decorations had no effect on her, except maybe to tighten the vise around her heart.

She wasn’t happy. And she didn’t know if she could fake it, even for Nicky. Could she really put together a six-foot artificial tree by herself? Never mind lift Nicky to place the angel on top—a tradition formerly and laughingly performed by Peter.

She muttered a prayer for help, but it smacked against the ceiling of her apartment and came showering down again in thousands of tiny pieces. Or at least that’s how it felt to her.

She was living in a tiny wooden crate with no air and no light. She’d been abandoned. First by her father. Then by Peter. And now, it seemed, even God had left her to flounder on her own.

Madelaine Anne! She could hear her mother’s voice as if it were yesterday. If you can’t find God, it’s because you’ve backed off. He hasn’t gone anywhere.

She toyed with the idea of making a phone call. Mom always knew what to say. But Maddie’s faith wasn’t as strong as her mother’s. In fact, she wasn’t sure if she had faith at all. Would someone with real faith question what God had done?

Maddie did. Every single day. Peter’s death didn’t make any more sense to her now than it had a year ago. Even the newspapers had called it a senseless tragedy.

God is in control.

If that was true, why hadn’t she even been able to find a crack in the woodwork of this crate of hers?

Except, perhaps, last night. Last night, for one brief, shining moment, she had remembered what it was like to laugh. The deep melodic voice of her Phantom rang through her memory, and she smiled. He had given her a precious gift. He had helped her laugh again. She would always be grateful to him for that.

Her smile faded. Last night it had been easy to think about celebrating Christmas again. Last night she’d even believed she might enjoy the festive spirit, revel in the preparations.

But not now. Not with all these boxes as glaring reminders of the love she and Peter had shared, love that had brought her dear Nicky into the world.

She would not cry.

And she would not let Nicky down. He deserved a memorable Christmas. And if God was here, she was going to give Nicky the best Christmas of his life.

She gritted her teeth against the waves of nausea in her stomach and the ferocious pounding in her head. The huge box containing the Christmas tree was waiting for her attention. With a deep breath for courage, she plunged her arms in, triumphantly emerging with an armful of tree limbs in various shapes and sizes.

After five minutes of work, she’d managed to find the tree base, and had buried herself knee-deep in branches.

She’d never paid the least attention to Peter when he put the tree together, but if he could do it, so could she. Didn’t the dumb tree come with instructions?

She burst into frustrated tears. What a stupid thing to cry over, she reprimanded herself. But she didn’t try to brush the tears away. If it wasn’t this, it would be something else. She hadn’t realized how much she depended on Peter.

And now she was alone.

“Why did you leave me, Peter? Why? I never was good enough for you, was I?” The words echoed in the empty room, an echo answered in her empty heart.

She scrubbed a determined hand down her face, resolving to divide and conquer. No stupid artificial tree would get the best of her, even if it took her all day to assemble.

Her lips pinched with determination, she leaned into the box until she felt as though she were being swallowed. She groped around the bottom, her fingers nimbly searching for anything resembling paper, but found nothing but a stray line of garland.

What might Peter have done with the instructions?

Tossed them.

The thought caught her by surprise and she barked out a laugh. Of course. That’s exactly what her handyman husband would have done. In his opinion, written instructions were the bane of a “real” man’s existence, to be scoffed at and referred to only as a last resort.

Which left her with a gigantic, tree-size problem. Hands on her hips, she surveyed the limb-strewn room.

Christmas music. She’d throw on a CD of favorite Christmas tunes for a little holiday spirit. Maybe all she needed was to set the mood. Though she thought it highly improbable that the tree would put itself together even with the proper ambience.

“Oh, Mama!” Nicky exclaimed, scuffling sleepily from his bedroom. He was still clad in his superhero pajamas, his white-blond hair rumpled from sleep. “A Christmas tree!”

Her heart warmed at the sight of her son’s glowing eyes. It was worth any amount of pain to give her son some joy in his life. And perhaps—if God were merciful—she could partake in a moment or two of Christmas joy herself.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him in a bear hug, but knew he would take that as a personal assault on his big-boy dignity. Instead, she ruffled his hair. “Well, it’s supposed to be.”

She laughed as Nicky threw himself into a pile of limbs as if it were a mountain of crisp autumn leaves.

“As you can see, Mom’s having a little bit of trouble putting this thing together.”

Nicky’s expression became serious, his brows knit together. “I’ll help.”

The look was so much his father’s that Maddie’s throat tightened.

Nicky began gathering limbs in his stout little arms. “Look, Mom. They have colors on the ends.”

Hmm. So they did. How had she missed something so patently obvious? She couldn’t say, but she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. Leave it to her six-year-old son to solve the problem before she did.

She picked up one of the smaller branches, marked with yellow paint on the end that stuck into the base. “These yellow ones must go on top.”

Humming along with “Jingle Bells,” she began poking the metal end into the top of the base. They’d have a Christmas tree yet. And maybe even before the new year hit!

“No, Mama. The big branches first. That’s how Daddy always used to do it.”

Tears sprang again to her eyes, and she quickly brushed them away before her son could see. How could he possibly remember Peter putting up the Christmas tree? It had been two years—two achingly painful years—since there’d been no tree last year. Last year they’d celebrated Christmas in Children’s Hospital.

How could Nicky possibly remember that far back? He would have been four, watching Peter with wide-eyed wonder and the universal childhood belief that Daddy could do anything.

But somehow, he remembered.

She cleared her throat against the pain choking the breath from her lungs. The picture of flames engulfing the Santa’s workshop display overwhelmed her, as if she were trapped in a theater, forced to watch the same movie over and over. She could smell the acrid smoke…hear her son screaming.

Daddy. Daddy. Daddy!

“Mom?” Nicky pulled on the sleeve of her sweat-shirt. “Mom? Are you okay?”

She shook her head to clear the memories. “We’re going to the zoo tonight,” she said a little too brightly, forcing her mind to shift gears.

“Will we get to see the elephants?” Nicky asked, excitement brimming from his eyes and voice.

Maddie nodded. “Yes, honey. We’ll get to see some very special elephants. They’re opening the new Pachyderm Pavilion tonight, and we get to be the first ones to see it.”

“What’s a pack-eee-drum?”

She laughed and hugged her bouncing, squirming child to her chest. “It means elephants, I think. And maybe rhinos, too. Can you guess why the Pachyderm Pavilion is so special?”

Nicky nodded solemnly. “My teacher told us at school. It has Daddy’s name on it, right Mom?”

“Right, sweetheart. And that’s why we get to be the first ones to go inside!”

“Do you think I can feed one of the elephants?”

“I don’t know about that. But it wouldn’t hurt to ask. You’re Peter Carlton’s son, after all.”

“Yesss!” Nicky bunched his fist and brought his elbow into his hip.

“I think I can safely promise you can feed the ducks. Now, why don’t we try and get this Christmas tree up before Christmas has come and gone. Can you help me sort the branches into piles?”

Neil March pulled his wool coat more tightly around his chest and stared dully at the pond where ducks quacked and vied for his attention. The bridge he stood on elevated his contact with the biting wind, and he shivered.

He shouldn’t be here. It was too risky. What if she saw him? Then she would know…

But he could no more keep himself from coming tonight than he could stop his heart from beating. He had to see her. At least one more time.

He’d stay well hidden. She’d be busy with the press. There was no way she’d spot him in the crowd. And it wasn’t as if she would recognize his face.

She would never have to know the truth.

The air was bitterly cold. He glanced up at the sky, wondering idly if it was going to snow.

He didn’t know why anyone would want to come to see the Denver Zoo’s Wildlights in this nasty weather—but the park was crowded. Probably the grand opening of the elephant exhibit lured them in. It had been well publicized.

As for him…he was here for her. There was no sense denying it. He was here because he couldn’t stand the thought of going through life without looking once more into those sparkling brown eyes.

He wanted so much more, but that was impossible for him. For them. They had barriers between them that made the Great Wall of China pale in comparison. Walls of which she knew nothing, and of which he knew too much.

His life was spiralling from painful to unbearable since meeting Maddie face to face, and he could do nothing to stop it. How could he? He deserved to suffer.

He was after all responsible for the accident, for the fire, for his store going up in flames. And ultimately, for Peter Carlton’s death. He’d have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his life.

With all the strength of his will, he pushed his mind from the future. And from the past. Brooding wouldn’t help matters.

At least he had tonight. Another chance to look at her. To see her shining eyes and glowing face. To listen to the sultry hum of her voice.

Even if she didn’t know he was there.

He wondered why she had given so much money to the zoo. Not that he begrudged her the money. He was glad she was spending it, remembering all too well her refusal to sully her hands with his pathetic attempt at atonement. As if anything could make her life better.

It was his fault that she was alone, and the guilt pierced his heart like a lance.

Why had she chosen elephants? They had been his childhood favorite, both at the zoo and the circus. Perhaps her son had chosen where the money went.

Or had they been Peter Carlton’s favorite, too?

A mallard swam up to the bridge and quacked loudly, flapping his wings for attention.

Neil glanced at his watch. He had a few minutes left before he needed to join the crowd heading toward the pavilion for the grand opening.

Fishing in his pocket for change, Neil smiled. “You’re in luck, Duck. I happen to have a quarter. And I happen to be in a good mood.”

It wasn’t exactly the truth. But it would have to do. He put the coin in the machine dispensing duck pellets and cranked the handle.

He didn’t have much to offer. But at least he could feed the ducks.

Chapter Four

“Mom, look! The polar bear is going for a swim!” Wildlights at the Zoo was a yearly tradition for the Carltons. Adults and children alike enjoyed seeing the animals at night, and the zoo blazing with Christmas color.

Maddie shivered. That polar bear was clean out of his mind, lumbering into the icy water as if he were taking a cool dip in summertime. Give or take a few hours and he might be able to ice-skate on his pool.

If it wasn’t so cold, she might really be enjoying herself. But the nip of the wind stole away any pleasure she might have had. Nicky, bouncing with energy, didn’t seem to notice, and dashed away to the next display. It was all she could do to keep up with the boy.

She followed him halfheartedly, her mind wandered back to the previous evening.

Last night. What had she been doing at this time last night?

She glanced at her watch.

Dancing. She’d been dancing with her Phantom.

A deep sigh escaped her lips. All she had left of the night was the rose, carefully pressed and drying between the pages of her journal. Were it not for that, Maddie might have thought that it had all been some incredible, romantic dream. Like Cinderella’s glass slipper, the rose was a memento to remember the occasion by.

She wished she’d given him something as well. It would be nice to think that there was a man out there somewhere who remembered her as glamorous Cinderella, and not as a pain-stricken widow.

It was just as well that he’d forever remain a Phantom, she reflected as she led her son to the next zoo display. Any more time in the company of the masked man would no doubt have revealed some all-too-real faults that would have brought her crashing back to reality.

He was much better left a dream.

With gigantic effort, she thrust her thoughts back into the present. “Do you want to feed the ducks?” Maddie asked, ruffling her son’s white-blond locks. “We’ve still got a few minutes before we need to head for the elephants.”

Loaded with a pocketful of quarters, Nicky shouted and raced for the bridge, and to the machine offering duck pellets. He was tossing them by the fistful at the ducks when Maddie strolled up, breathing heavily of the crisp winter air.

Silently watching Nicky calling to the ducks, a man leaned out over the bridge. His dark hair and the set of his broad shoulders seemed achingly familiar, making butterflies dance in Maddie’s stomach.

She stopped short. It couldn’t be him. The thought was utterly ridiculous. What would a wealthy businessman be doing at the zoo, and alone at that? She chastised her fickle mind for betraying her.

She was going crazy, that’s what it was. She’d spent one pleasant evening with a man, and now that she had returned to reality, and was alone once again, she was conjuring him up from the depths of her mind and projecting him onto a stranger..

Desperation at its ugliest. She needed to get a grip on her emotions. And concentrate on her son.

She gave the man one last glance, hoping that by doing so she could prove to her flighty emotions that she was making something out of nothing. It wasn’t him. It couldn’t be him. And her eyes would prove it.

As the ducks clamored around Nicky, she heard the rich sound of the man’s chuckle. And then he combed his fingers through the curls at his neck.

Her heart quavered and dropped into her toes. Her mind screamed, both in elation and disbelief. It was the one gesture that would forever be etched in her mind—the heart-stopping idiosyncrasy of her Phantom.

Unbidden, anger welled in her chest. He’d abandoned her, and he had never let her see his face. How dare he disappear without a word?

Well, she had some words for him! Persuading her to unmask, and then refusing to do the same. Running off on her without even saying goodbye. Who was it that said women were fickle? It must have been a man.

She stomped forward and yanked on the wool of his coat, pulling him around to face her.

When her gaze met his intense, flaming eyes, she gasped. The tiny, niggling voice still whispering that it might not be the same man died a quick and silent death as recognition lit his dark eyes and a crooked smile replaced his frown.

It was her Phantom.

She hadn’t even considered the fact that he wouldn’t be wearing a mask, or given a thought to what he might look like without it. In her spontaneous rush of anger, she’d approached him without thinking, both dreading and anticipating the confrontation.

She stepped back in shock at what she saw. His strong cheekbones, which had been hidden by the mask, gave even more depth to the planes of his face. He was, as she had known he would be, strikingly handsome.

But that wasn’t what made her gasp. His mask had indeed been hiding the truth.

The right side of his face, around the temple, forehead, and eye, was covered with very real bandages.

Surprise registered only momentarily on his face before he grinned and shrugged. “I see you caught me. Your Phantom is more like the real Phantom of the Opera than you anticipated, huh?”

Maddie tried to speak, but her mouth was dry. “I…uh…”

“I’m sorry. I can see I startled you. I—”

“Mom! I fed all of the ducks!” Nicky bounded between them, bouncing on his toes.

“He did, too!” her Phantom confirmed, smiling in a way that made Maddie’s heart turn over. Something about those lips. Perhaps it was the bandages that shadowed the rest of his face, just as the Phantom’s mask had. Or maybe she was remembering the sweet tenderness of his kiss.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. Nicky latched on to her arm and peered timidly at the bandaged-faced man. “It’s okay, Nicky. This man is my—” she hesitated over the word “—friend.”

“I’m Mr. M…” His sentence trailed. “Um, Nicky, do you want to ride the train?”

That was all it took to make a fast friend of the young boy, who grabbed the man’s hand and pulled him toward the train.

The Phantom scooped Nicky into his arms, placing the boy on his broad shoulders. “Look, there, Nicky! You’re as tall as the giraffes, now!”

He was a natural with children, Maddie thought as they headed for the train, and Nicky was eating up his attention, squealing with glee. Warning bells rang in Maddie’s mind, and she quickly installed mental barriers. The more she knew of this man, the more there was to like. But fairy tales didn’t translate into reality, and she was setting herself up to be left with a crushed pumpkin and a couple of mice for company.

Something she definitely could do without. She’d have to be more careful.

Maddie’s eyes met the Phantom’s and he smiled, sharing with her in Nicky’s delight. It was a small gesture, yet it warmed her heart like a woodstove on a brisk morning.

“I didn’t quite catch your name,” she reminded him as he planted Nicky on the train, waving as the locomotive powered up.

A surprised look crossed his face, but was quickly shadowed. “Hmm?” he asked, as if he hadn’t heard her question.

“Your name. You know, what people call you to get your attention. I can’t keep calling you Phantom all the time. It would be embarrassing for me and humiliating for you.”

Neil glanced at his watch, stalling for time. He hadn’t anticipated seeing her again—or rather, having her see him. And now she was demanding his name.

What was he supposed to say? Hi, my name is Neil March, the man responsible for your husband’s death.

“I…um,” he mumbled, looking right and left, wishing desperately that a gap in the earth would open up and give him an escape route. Swallow him whole. He couldn’t tell her the truth, though he knew she deserved to hear it.

“Rory,” he said, making a split-second decision. “My friends call me Rory.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. He had, in fact, been raised as Rory. Neil Rory March III. His father was already Neil Jr., so adding another Neil to the family clan had seemed a bit confusing. Neil had gone by his middle name until he graduated from college and claimed his inheritance.

“Rory,” Maddie repeated, running her low, melodic voice over the syllables. The sound was like a balm to his soul.

“Mrs. Carlton!” The master of ceremonies for the grand opening of the Pachyderm Pavilion rushed upon them, startling Neil. He took a step backwards and turned his face away from any who might recognize him. “It’s time. We’ve been looking all over for you. Everyone is waiting.”

A tumult of confusion ensued as Maddie gathered Nicky under her arm and muttered about not noticing the time. Several others in charge of seeing the grand opening go off without a hitch converged on her, giving her instructions on speaking and wishing her luck.

Neil slipped quietly away into the night, away from Maddie, feeling the cold closing around him with every step he took. His hands clenched into fists, trying to force from his mind the lie still ringing in his ears.

My friends call me Rory.

Chapter Five

Keeping to the shadows of the makeshift tent, Neil adjusted the collar of his knee-length wool coat high around his neck. From his pocket he pulled a Colorado Rockies baseball cap which he placed low over his brow, shadowing his ravaged face from the crowd.

He couldn’t afford to have anyone recognize him and uncover his deception.

It was the very same reason that, up until last night, he never went out in public: to keep the world from finding out the truth about that one accursed night. Finding out the truth about him.

Until Maddie.

She forced him out of his self-imposed solitude, though she was the last person on earth with whom he wanted to come face-to-face. The irony of his situation cut him like a razor.

He watched her approach the podium nervously, hesitating before the clamoring crowd. From his vantage point near the front and to the right, he could see her hand shaking as she stepped before the microphone. She tapped it gently with her forefinger, then stepped back when the speakers crackled. Neil couldn’t help chuckling.

He tamped down the desire to rescue her. She was putting on a good show for the crowd, but he could see the lines of strain around her mouth, the fear shining in her eyes. He wanted to burst forward, take over the situation, put her at ease. He was good with people, had no trouble speaking in public. He could stand by her side, make things easier for her.

But this was her night. As tough as speaking before this crowd was, it was something she needed to do. He couldn’t rush in and take her place, not only because it wouldn’t be fair to Maddie, but because he’d be recognized. He needed to stay under the cover of darkness.

Clearing her throat, she began again, quietly at first, and then with growing passion, to tell the agonizing story that began and ended with March’s Department Store.

She was so beautiful, even with her features laced with pain and sadness. She looked like an angel from heaven under the stage lights, glowing with a warmth and purity that pervaded even the pain.

Neil’s chest tightened. If only it were another place, another time. If he could erase the past, he would be in grave danger of losing his heart.

But the past could never be changed. He would forever live in the cold shadow of Peter Carlton’s death.

The chill of the night air enveloped him, the dampness of the light snowfall weighing him down as surely as the guilt burdening his shoulders.

The crowd applauded and Maddie stepped away from the microphone. She grasped Nicky’s hand and then wandered through the throng, looking for a familiar face.

Looking for him.

He stepped out of the shadows and turned quickly to leave. He was a coward. His mind berated him even as he walked away. But he couldn’t play the game anymore.

He wouldn’t. The truth might show in his eyes.

And if she didn’t find out…if her big brown eyes met his, he might throw caution to the wind and act on his feelings. He didn’t know which was worse. And he didn’t want to find out.

He increased his stride and pushed through the crowds, making good his escape.

“Rory, wait!”

She’d seen him. His shoulders stiffened and he slackened his pace. Her words burned inside his chest, but he couldn’t help smiling when he looked into her shining eyes. “How did it feel to be up there in front of everyone?” he asked around the guilt clogging his throat.

“I can’t believe it. I was so nervous, but once I got up there I just forgot about everything except telling the story. My adrenaline’s pumping a mile a minute. It was so…invigorating!”

She reached up and swiped the cap from his head, swatting him playfully in the chest with it.

Neil chuckled and wrenched the cap away from her, tapping her lightly on top of her head before placing the cap in his coat pocket.

With an offended screech, she tried to retrieve it, but he shifted back and forth, always just out of her grasp. “Missed me, Missed me. Now ya gotta kiss me!” he whispered in her ear, hugging her to his chest.

Laughing and sputtering, they both fell into a heap in a cold, wet snowbank. Suddenly her smile faded and self-doubt flooded her expression. “But I—how did I do? Really?”

“You were wonderful, Maddie. Born to be a public speaker.”

Maddie grinned. “Now there’s hogwash if I’ve ever heard it. But please—don’t stop!” It had been so long since she’d heard a compliment from a man. She felt her cheeks flaming with heat, but she didn’t care. Right now she was willing to beg for a compliment from this handsome stranger.

He made her laugh. He made her feel. He made the night light up with thousands of brilliant colors that put the Wildlights to shame.

He pulled her into the curve of his arm, the palm of her hand against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding, and her own heartbeat rose in challenge.

She glanced at her son, hoping the boy was not upset by the sight of this unknown man with his arm around her shoulder. But Nicky seemed oblivious, running ahead with wild abandon from one display to the next. He exclaimed over the lights, bounced excitedly over every new animal he discovered. And when he glanced back at his mother, he only smiled to see her in Rory’s arms.

“Shall I tell you how beautiful you are?” Rory whispered as they followed the path her son had taken. “How your brown eyes sparkle in the moonlight?”

“Mmm,” Maddie answered, allowing her emotions to be led as her feet were being led. Far from reality and deeply into a dream.

“You can’t be serious,” she whispered.

“Ah, but I am.” He grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“You can feel it,” he continued, “here.” He placed her palm over his heart. “And you can see it…”

She could see into the depths of his blazing dark eyes, see a flicker of untamed emotion so intense that it heated her insides. She couldn’t have been married for eight years without recognizing what was happening to her, knowing what she was feeling. Understanding what she’d been missing.

It wasn’t just a kiss or a touch that she lacked. She missed the intimacy of two souls meeting, and bonding. She missed this amazing instant and uncanny rapport they shared.

It was what he longed for, as well. She could feel it in her heart. He wasn’t playing games with her. The intensity in his eyes left no doubt that he was serious.

And this time, she didn’t want to run away.

She knew the moment he read her answer in her eyes. She couldn’t have spoken if she had wanted to—except with her heart. And she hoped that was enough for Rory.

He cupped her chin in his palm and shook his head ever so slightly. His dark eyes clouded, but Maddie was beyond being able to do more than lean into him, asking for his affection the only way she could.

“Maddie, I—”

“Rory.”

A muffled groan rose from the depths of his chest as he gave in to the longing in his eyes. The unspoken question remained as his gaze locked with hers, and slowly, slowly, he bent his head toward her.

Maddie’s senses heightened until she was sure she could feel the crackling of tension in the air between them. His featherlight caress of her cheek, sliding gently to the back of her neck to pull her closer, became the focus of her world.

And those eyes. Those eyes.

She wanted to cling to him, to share one breath and heartbeat.

But they both knew this was neither the right time, nor the right place.

Reluctantly, he broke away. “We need to catch up with Nicky,” he murmured, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, holding her so tightly that he could easily have crushed her, yet so gently that she felt surrounded by the strength of a fortress, safe and protected from the fears haunting her.

She closed her eyes, content for the moment to rest her head against his solid shoulder, to extend the shimmering bliss for as long as possible.

Suddenly his muscles tensed beneath her cheek. Her eyes snapped open to see what was wrong, but Rory wasn’t looking at her.

Jaw clenched, he scanned the throng of people nearby. “Where’d he go?” he asked. His voice was crisp with authority.

“Nicky?” She pointed toward the predatory bird display. “Why, he was right over there when—” She stopped mid-sentence, her eyes searching the area for her son’s familiar face. “Where’s Nicky?”

He was gone.

Her stomach lurched into her throat. Where was he? He’d been exclaiming over the eagles not a minute before. Before she’d lost herself in Rory’s arms.

“Where is he?” she cried, wresting herself from Rory’s embrace. “Where’s my son? Oh, if anything happens to Nicky…”

“Maddie.” Rory’s voice was low and controlled.

“I’ll never forgive myself. “Oh, God, please let him be safe,” she prayed aloud.

“Maddie!”

“This was a terrible, terrible mistake. If I hadn’t—”

“Maddie!” Rory took her by the shoulders and gently shook her. “You’ve got to snap out of it. Take some deep breaths and try to calm down. We’ll find him.”

The even tenor of his words had the needed effect, soothing her soul with steady, reassuring waves. His eyes blazed into hers, transferring his strength to her.

She scrubbed at the tears streaking down her face. “You’re right. Let’s not panic. He can’t be far.”

“We need to put this together piece by piece. A minute ago, Nicky was in front of the eagle cage. Where would he go from there?” Rory took her hand and began backtracking the way they’d come, his eyes alert.

“I don’t know!” she wailed, and burst into a fresh round of tears. “He knows not to wander off. He could be anywhere.”

“He could be. But he isn’t. He’s somewhere. We’ve just got to figure out where.” His words were firm, almost harsh, but the hand stroking the tears on her cheek was gentle and reassuring.

Maddie strained to think of where her son might be, but she couldn’t get past the wild waves of panic in her mind.

She paused as the answer floated just above her consciousness. “The elephants!”

“Didn’t he see the elephants earlier?”

“We didn’t get a chance. We were too busy with the program. And they’ve always been his favorite.” Her voice caught. “I promised him. And then I was so preoccupied with my stupid speech, and finding you—I forgot all about it.”

“Come on, then.” He reached for her hand, then sprinted toward the lights of the pavilion, glancing back from time to time to be sure that she was keeping pace.

She was. She held her breath, hoping against hope that her son was safe. The lights from the Pachyderm Pavilion blazed brightly, beckoning visitors. Nicky would have had no trouble finding his way.

Tears streamed from her eyes, though she fought to keep them back. “God, please,” she whispered quietly and ferverently. “Please. Don’t take Nicky, too.”

She didn’t even realize that she spoke aloud until Rory looked back, his brow furrowed. “He won’t,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “He can’t.”

“No?” she yelled, her body quivering with rage. She didn’t care that she was making a scene, that others were staring at the couple racing helter-skelter through the zoo. Fury threatened to overwhelm her, and she focused on the anger. It gave her strength. It was easier to be angry than afraid. “Why not? He took Peter.”

“Maddie, don’t.”

Rory’s voice was laced with pain, as if her words had been directed toward him. She wasn’t angry with him. Rory had distracted her, but only because she let him.

She was mad at herself. And at God.

But most of all at Neil March. It was all his fault that she was alone. Neil March was responsible for everything bad that had happened to her—even Nicky’s disappearance. If Peter was still alive…

But it wasn’t Neil March that she was hurting with her cutting words. It was Rory. Dear, kind Rory, who appeared just as upset by Nicky’s disappearance as she was.

She didn’t know why it should matter to him, why she should matter to him. But somehow she knew that Rory’s affection for her and Nicky was real. Her anger subsided, leaving her shoulders in tight knots and her stomach unnervingly empty.

Rory stopped as they reached the pavilion and pulled her to him, his breath coming in short gasps that clouded in the crisp air.

Suddenly his embraced tightened. “Maddie, look. There!”

Chapter Six

A chuckle erupted from Rory’s throat.

Maddie looked to where he pointed, then sagged against him in relief. If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she was certain her legs would have folded beneath her.

Nicky was hanging from the guardrail, leaning as far as his gangly body would let him, straining to touch a friendly elephant’s trunk. He was talking animatedly to the beast, and didn’t even seem to notice that he’d left his mother far behind.

He’s growing up, Maddie thought, the realization pinching her heart. But she knew that Nicky would indeed have panicked once he lost interest in the elephants and realized that he was alone.

Just as she and every other child, at some point in their young lives, had done. She remembered the shocking revelation in her own life—that she was nothing more than a tiny dot on the huge map of civilization. And that she was totally and completely alone.

She’d been shopping in a department store with her father, and begging to be able to stop and look at a colorful rack of books. Her father, thinking he’d give his daughter a moment to browse, had stepped two aisles over to look at hand tools—well within earshot, but completely out of Maddie’s sight.

How she’d screamed, her little heart frantic. She’d been completely terrified.

And had felt utterly alone.

It had happened again when Peter died, and then again for this brief period when she thought she’d lost Nicky. Fortunately, she’d found him before he’d suffered any trauma over the incident. In fact, she was relatively positive he didn’t even know there had been an incident.

If only her own heart was so strong.

“Thank God we found him,” Rory said, echoing the silent prayer in her own thoughts.

He marched up to the boy and picked him off the rail by the waist. Nicky yelled and squirmed, but Rory held him tightly until he’d calmed.

“You little scamp!” he chastised gently but firmly. “You gave your mother and me a healthy scare.”

Nicky started to protest, then looked at Maddie. She knew she couldn’t hide her tear-streaked face, and a fresh wave of tears already threatened to engulf her.

“Young man!” she said in her best mother’s voice. “Don’t you ever wander off on me again. Is that understood?”

Nicky’s bottom lip quivered endearingly. Maddie gave him a moment, then opened her arms to him. He dashed to her, and she held him tight, squeezing her eyes tight against the tears. Her dear little man. And he was safe. Thank you, God, she silently prayed. Forgive me for my anger. I know I should have trusted you.

“I’m okay, Mom,” Nicky assured, wiggling out of her embrace. “I got kinda lost, but an old lady helped me find the elephants. She told me to stay here till you got here. And she helped me feed that big guy in the middle!”

Maddie touched his shoulder, reassuring herself once again that he was here. He was safe.

“I think we could all use a nice hot cup of cocoa,” Rory said, lightly embracing both Maddie and her son. “What do you say we head up to the front gate? There’s a restaurant where we can get in out of the cold for a bit.” He ruffled Nicky’s hair. “I think it’s called Elephant something.”

“Cool!” Nicky exclaimed, undaunted by his neartrauma.

Smiling at her son’s enthusiasm, Maddie agreed, and moments later the three of them were settled in a cozy corner booth with steaming mugs of whippedcream-topped cocoa.

Neil stared at Maddie, trying to memorize every line and plane of her delicately beautiful face. He was living a precious dream, just being with her, but he knew the night would soon end.

And though it tore him inside to acknowledge it, there wouldn’t be any more nights with Maddie. There couldn’t be. He was her worst nightmare come to life, worse by far than the Phantom he’d been when he first met her.

If only she knew.

Maddie picked up her mug and toasted. “To happy endings.”

Neil’s breath caught in his throat. He couldn’t speak. Instead, he lifted his own mug and nodded.

She took a tentative sip of the cocoa, then licked at the whipped cream on top, not realizing that a small dollop of cream dotted her nose.

Neil smiled and leaned toward her, wiping off the cream with the tip of his finger. The brief contact was electric. Their eyes met and held.

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