SUSAN MEIER spent most of her twenties thinking she was a job-hopper – until she began to write and realised everything that had come before was only research! One of eleven children, with twenty-four nieces and nephews and three kids of her own, Susan lives in Western Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband, Mike, her children, and two over-fed, wellcuddled cats, Sophie and Fluffy. You can visit Susan’s website at www.susanmeier.com

Kisses on Her Christmas List

Susan Meier

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-472-06100-3

KISSES ON HER CHRISTMAS LIST

© 2011 Linda Susan Meier

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

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

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

For my friend, Denise.

CHAPTER ONE

SHANNON RALEIGH turned to get a look at herself in the full-length mirror in the bathroom of her executive office suite and gaped in horror. The tall black boots and short red velvet dress she wore exposed most of her legs and the white fur-trimmed U at the bodice revealed a sizable strip of cleavage.

“I can’t go into a roomful of kids dressed like this!”

Even from behind the closed door, she could hear her assistant Wendy sigh heavily. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“Because I know you’ll say I look fine, when I don’t. I can’t usher kids to Santa’s lap in a skirt so short I can’t bend over.”

“So don’t bend over.” Another sigh. “Look, Shannon, it doesn’t matter that you’re eight inches taller than Carlie. There’s nobody else who’s even remotely thin enough to fit into that suit. Carlie’s car is stuck in a snowdrift. If you don’t play Santa’s helper there’ll be no one to—”

The ring of the phone stopped Wendy midsentence. The next thing Shannon heard was Wendy’s happy voice saying, “Raleigh’s Department Store. Shannon Raleigh’s assistant, Wendy, speaking.”

In the lull while Wendy obviously listened to the caller, Shannon cast another critical eye over her reflection. The little red dress was kind of cute. The color complemented her long black hair and made her blue eyes seem bluer. If she were wearing it anywhere else, she’d actually think she looked pretty.

A long-forgotten ache filled her. It was the first time in a year she felt pretty, sexy. But sexy wasn’t exactly the way a grown woman should dress in a room filled with babies, toddlers and elementary school kids.

The ache was quickly replaced by fear—which was the real reason she didn’t want to play Santa’s helper. How could she spend four hours in a room full of adorable children? She wanted a baby so badly it hurt, but she couldn’t have kids. And seeing all those sweet faces, hearing their cute little lists, would crush her.

“Um, Shannon?”

“I’m not coming out.”

“Fine. That was Tammy in the shoe department. No one’s come into the store for the past hour and she could tell the storm was getting worse, so she checked the forecast on the internet. They have no clue how much snow we’re going to get, but they aren’t shy about suggesting we might get another foot.”

“Another foot!”

Shannon raced out of her bathroom and pulled back the curtain behind her huge mahogany desk. Thick fluffy snowflakes cascaded from the sky, coating the tinsel and silver bells on the streetlamps of Main Street, Green Hill, Pennsylvania. It blanketed the Christmas lights that outlined shop doorways, and sat on the roof of the park’s gazebo like a tall white hat.

“Holy cow!”

Her gaze on the little red Santa’s helper outfit, Wendy also said, “Holy cow.”

“Don’t make fun. We have a serious problem here.” Or maybe a way out. She turned from the window. “I think it’s time to admit that the storm is keeping shoppers away.”

“And most of the staff is scared silly about driving home. The longer we stay, the worse the roads get.”

“Okay, announce that the store is closing in fifteen and tell the employees they can go home. I’ll call the radio stations so they can add us to their list of closings. Then I’ll lock up.”

As the announcement went out over the loudspeaker, Shannon called all the local radio stations and advised them to let listeners know Raleigh’s would be closed for the night.

Just as she hung up the phone from the final call, Wendy peeked in. “Okay. Fifteen minutes are up. Store’s empty.”

“Great. Thanks. Be careful going home.”

“My boyfriend’s coming to pick me up in his truck. I’ll be fine.”

Shannon smiled. “See you tomorrow.”

“If we can make it.”

“We better hope we can make it. The weekend before Christmas is our busiest time.”

Wendy shrugged. “If shoppers don’t get here tomorrow, they’ll just come on Sunday or Monday or Tuesday or whatever. Nobody’s going to go without gifts this Christmas. I’d say your profits are safe.”

Shannon laughed. Wendy waved and headed off. With a few clicks on her keyboard, she activated the building locks and the alarm system. Reaching for her coat, she peered down at her little Santa’s helper outfit. She should change, but knowing the roads were getting worse with every passing minute, she simply yanked her long white wool coat from the closet and ran out.

At the end of the hall, she pushed on the swinging door that led from executive row to housewares. Striding to the elevator, she passed shelves and tables bulging with merchandise, all under loops of tinsel and oversized ornaments hanging from the low ceiling. On the first floor, she hurried past the candy department, to the back door and the employee parking lot. Putting her SUV into four-wheel drive, she edged onto the street and slowly wound along the twisty road that took her out into the country, to her home five miles outside the small city.

As she stepped out into the eighteen inches of snow in her driveway, a sense of disconnect shivered through her. Though it had been a year, it felt like only yesterday that she had been married and living in sunny, happy Charleston, South Carolina, where people didn’t often see snow, let alone need winter coats and boots. Then she’d been diagnosed with stage-four endometriosis and forced to have a hysterectomy, her husband had unceremoniously divorced her and she’d returned home to the comforting arms of her parents.

But just when she’d gotten adjusted to being back in town and working at the store, her parents had retired and moved to Florida. Worse, they now wanted her to sell the store to fund their retirement.

Once again, she was alone—and soon she’d be unemployed.

She trudged up the back steps to the kitchen door, scolding herself for being so negative. She knew what was wrong. The near miss with playing Santa’s helper had rattled her. Four hours of ushering kids to Santa’s throne and listening to their sweet voices as they gave their Christmas lists to the jolly old elf would have been her undoing—a bittersweet reminder to her that she’d never bring a child into this world.

Inside the cold yellow kitchen, she’d just barely unwound the scarf from her neck when the doorbell rang. Confused, she walked up the hall, dodging the boxes of Christmas decorations she’d brought from the attic the night before. She flipped on the porch light and yanked open the door.

A snow-covered state policeman took off his hat. “Evening, ma’am. I’m Trooper Potter.”

She blinked. What the devil would the police want with her? “Good evening.”

Then Trooper Potter shifted a bit to his left and she saw Rory Wallace. All six foot one, no more than one hundred and eighty-five gorgeous pounds of him. His black hair and topcoat were sprinkled with snow. His dark eyes were wary, apologetic.

“Rory?”

“Good evening, Shannon.”

The policeman angled his thumb behind him. “I see you know Mr. Wallace.”

“Yes. I do.” How could she forget a dark-haired, dark-eyed sex god? While he had dated her roommate, Natalie, their first year at university, Shannon had had a secret crush on him. With his high cheekbones, well-defined chin, broad shoulders and flat abs, he had the kind of looks that made women swoon and Shannon wasn’t blind.

“Mr. Wallace was stranded on the interstate. The hotels filled up quickly with travelers and now his only options are a cot in the high school gym or finding someone to take him in. He tells me that he’s in Pennsylvania because he has business with you on Monday and—”

“I came a few days early to get a look at the store on my own,” Rory interrupted, stepping forward. “But I ran into the storm. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind me staying the night. Normally, I wouldn’t ask such a big favor, but as you can see I’m desperate.”

Mind? She almost laughed. She would bet that fifty percent of the women he met fantasized about being stuck in a storm with him.

She opened the door a little wider. Not only would having him stay the night get her out of the doldrums about her life, but this also had all the makings of a perfect fantasy. Cold night. Gorgeous guy. And wine. She had tons of wine.

“Daddy, I’m cold.”

Her fantasy came to an abrupt halt as she glanced down and saw a little girl standing beside Rory. She wore a pink ski jacket and carried a matching pink backpack. Little strands of yellow hair peeked from beneath her hood.

Her heart pinched with fear. Her breathing stuttered out. Did Fate think it was funny to let her dodge playing Santa’s helper only to drop an adorable child on her doorstep?

“You can see why I don’t want to stay in a shelter.”

Fear and yearning collided as she glanced down at the sweet little girl with big blue eyes and fine yellow hair. As much as she knew spending time with this child would intensify her longing for her own children, she couldn’t leave Rory and his daughter out in the cold or ship them to a crowded gym with hundreds of other noisy travelers and a tiny cot.

She also couldn’t be a Scrooge. Her problem wasn’t their problem. She would be a good hostess.

She stepped back so they could enter. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Carrying a duffel bag and briefcase as he squeezed into the foyer, Rory brushed against her, setting off a firestorm of sensations inside her. She ignored them. Not just because a man with a child was most likely married, but because she probably wouldn’t have made a pass at him even if he’d been alone. In the year since her divorce, she hadn’t been able to relate to men as anything other than employees. After her husband’s anger over her inability to have kids and the way he’d dropped her like a hot potato—no consideration for their five-year marriage, no consideration for her devastation—the fear of another man rejecting her paralyzed her.

Plus, come Monday, they’d be doing business. His family owned a holding company for various types of stores and Raleigh’s would probably fit their collection. That’s why she’d thought of Natalie’s old boyfriend when her parents had decided they wanted to sell the store. It could be a quick, painless sale. She didn’t want to jeopardize that.

But, wow. It had been fun to fantasize about being stranded with him, fun for the ten seconds before reality intruded, reminding her she wasn’t normal.

As Rory dropped his duffel bag, she said, “It’s a terrible storm.”

“Worst in ten years,” the trooper agreed, staying behind on the porch. “If you’re all settled, I need to get back on the road.”

“We’re fine,” Shannon said, as she began to close the door. As an afterthought, she added, “Thank you.”

“Yes, thank you,” Rory Wallace called out, too.

Already on his way down her front steps, the trooper waved goodbye and trudged through the thick snow on the sidewalk to his car.

Awkward silence reigned as Rory Wallace took in the foyer of Shannon Raleigh’s home. As if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d been forced to humble himself and ask for shelter from a business associate, it appeared she was moving. Boxes blocked half the corridor that led from the foyer to the kitchen behind it. They littered the living room to the right and the dining room to the left.

Which made him feel even guiltier. “Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

She smiled graciously. “You’re welcome.” Then she shivered, even though she wore a long white coat and the house wasn’t that cold, just chilled, as if the heat had been on low all day while she was at work. “Give me a minute to turn on the furnace.” She walked to a thermostat on the wall and adjusted it. “You might want to keep your coats on until it heats up in here.”

He unbuttoned his topcoat. “Actually, after spending ten hours in a car, your house is warm to us.” He stooped to help his daughter with her jacket. Realizing he’d never introduced her, he peeked up at Shannon. “This is my daughter, Finley.”

Crouching beside them, Shannon said, “It’s nice to meet you, Finley.”

Finley mumbled, “Nice to meet you, too,” then she looked at him as if wanting to make sure he’d noticed that she’d been polite.

Sliding her arms out of her little pink jacket, he gave her a subtle nod of approval. Lately, Finley had been something of a six-year-old diva. Disciplining her worked, but not always. And some days he was at his wits’ end with her. So he was lucky she’d been polite to Shannon Raleigh. He didn’t know how he’d deal with her if she insulted the woman who’d rescued them.

“This is the perfect night to be stranded with me,” Shannon said, taking Finley’s jacket to the closet behind her. “My parents will be home from Florida next Saturday and I promised I’d have the house decorated for Christmas. All these boxes are decorations they left behind when they moved to Florida. You can help me.”

While Rory breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t interrupted her moving, Finley’s nose wrinkled and her eyes narrowed with distaste. Before he realized what she was about to do, she spat, “I hate Christmas.”

Shannon reared back as if someone had slapped her. Her pretty blue eyes widened in disbelief. “Hate Christmas? How can you hate Christmas?”

“How can you believe that a fat guy in a red suit brings you presents?”

Anger pulsed through Rory’s veins and he shot Finley a warning look. He wouldn’t yell at her in front of Shannon, but he did need to provide a few rules for behavior when imposing on someone they barely knew. He faced Shannon. “Why don’t you tell me where we’re sleeping and I’ll take Finley to our room and help her get settled in.”

Shannon winced. “Actually, there’s only one bedroom.”

“Oh.”

“It’s no big deal. We’ll give the bed to Finley, and you and I will use sleeping bags. You can put yours on the floor beside the bed and I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

Mortal embarrassment overwhelmed him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d be putting her out when he gave her name to the state policeman. “This is such an imposition. You can’t give us your room. Finley and I don’t mind sleeping in the living room.”

Finley stomped her foot. “I don’t want to sleep on the floor.”

He flashed Finley another warning look. “You won’t. You can have the sofa.”

“I want a bed!”

Rory’s head pounded. He understood that this time of year wasn’t easy for Finley. Her mom had left on Christmas day two years before. So every year, she got moody, and every year he indulged her by taking her on vacation from Christmas Eve to New Year’s. For a guy who’d also lost his marriage on Christmas day, a vacation from the holiday was good for him, too. But the foot-stomping and the pouting and the demands that everything go her way, those had just started. And he absolutely refused to get on board with them. He had to spend the next week looking at Raleigh’s Department Store for his family’s holding company. He couldn’t have her acting like a brat all week.

He turned to Shannon. “Would you mind showing us to the bedroom so I can get Finley settled?”

“Not at all.”

She led them into a small first-floor bedroom that was as neat and clean as the rest of the house…minus boxes. A feminine white ruffled spread sat on a simple double bed. Red pillows on the bed matched the red shag carpet beneath it and the drapes on the double windows.

He dropped his duffel bag to the floor. “Wow.”

She faced him with a smile. Her shiny black hair was a wonderland of long, springy curls. In the years since university, her face had shifted just slightly and she’d become a softer, prettier version of the young girl he remembered.

“Wow?”

“I’m just a little surprised by your room.”

Her smile grew. “Really? Why?”

“The red.” He felt the same color rising on his cheeks. The room was girlie, yet incredibly sexy. But he certainly didn’t feel comfortable saying that to the woman giving him and his daughter shelter, especially not after Finley’s minitantrum. Still, he never would have guessed this sexy combination of color and style from the sweet Shannon he knew all those years ago at school.

“There’s a private bathroom for the bedroom—” she gestured toward a door to the right “—over there.”

“Thank you.”

“Just come out when you’re ready.” She smiled. “I’ll start supper. I hope you like toasted cheese sandwiches and soup. I’m not much of a cook.”

“On a cold day like this, soup is terrific.”

She closed the door behind her and Rory crouched down in front of Finley. Smoothing his hand down her shiny yellow hair, he said, “You’re killing me.”

She blinked innocently “What?”

“Ms. Raleigh is doing us a favor by letting us stay. We should be polite to her.”

“I was polite.”

“Saying you want the bed while you stomp your foot is not polite.”

Her bottom lip puffed out. “Sorry.”

And this was why he had trouble disciplining her. The second he pointed out something she’d done wrong, she turned on that little-girl charm. Batted her long black lashes over her pretty blue eyes.

Scrubbing his hand over his mouth, he rose. “I’ll tell you what. You stay in here for a few minutes, while I spend some time getting acquainted with our hostess.” And apologizing and doing damage control. “While I’m gone, you can get your pajamas and toothbrush out of your backpack and think about how you’d want a little girl to behave if she were a guest in our house.”

Apparently liking her assignment, she nodded eagerly.

“And don’t spend all your time thinking about how you’d spoil your little guest, because you wouldn’t. If you had to give up your bed for a stranger, you’d want her to be nice to you.”

Finley nodded again and said, “Okay. I get it.”

Rory was absolutely positive she didn’t, but he had to make amends to Shannon. He left Finley in the bedroom and walked up the hall to the kitchen.

The house was small, but comfortable. The furniture was new and expensive, an indication that Raleigh’s Department Store did, indeed, make lots of money. So maybe the trip to Pennsylvania might not have been the mistake he’d thought while sitting in his car for ten hours, not moving, on the interstate?

He found Shannon in the kitchen. Still wearing her coat, she drew bread from a drawer and cheese from the refrigerator.

“Thanks again for taking us in.”

“No problem.” She set the bread and cheese on the center island of the sunny yellow kitchen with light oak cabinets and pale brown granite countertops. She reached for the top button of her coat. “Furnace has kicked in,” she said with a laugh, popping the first button and the second, but when she reached for the third, she paused. “I think I’ll just take this out to the hall closet.”

She walked past him, to the swinging door. Wanting something to do, he followed her. Just as he said, “Is there anything I can do to help with supper?” her coat fell off her shoulders, revealing a bright red dress.

But when she turned in surprise, he saw the dress wasn’t really a dress but some little red velvet thing that dipped low at the bodice, revealing an enticing band of cleavage. Tall black boots showcased her great legs.

She was dressed like Mrs. Santa—if Mrs. Santa were a young, incredibly endowed woman who liked short skirts.

His dormant hormones woke as if from a long winter’s nap, and he took a step back. These little bursts of attraction he was having toward her were all wrong. He had an unruly daughter who took priority over everything in his life, including his hormones, and he was a guest in Shannon’s house. Plus, tomorrow morning, when the storm was over, they’d go into her department store as adversaries of a sort. She’d be trying to sell her family business to him and he’d be looking for reasons not to buy. He couldn’t be attracted to her.

He swallowed back the whole filing cabinet of flirtatious remarks that wanted to come out. “That’s an interesting choice of work clothes.”

She laughed nervously. “I was going to fill in for our Santa’s helper in the toy department.”

Ah. Not Mrs. Santa but Santa’s helper.

“Well, the dress is very…” He paused. He knew the dress was probably supposed to be Christmassy and cute. And on a shorter woman it probably was. But she was tall, sleek, yet somehow still womanly. He didn’t dare tell her that. “Festive.”

She brought the coat to her neck, using it to shield herself. “That’s the look we’re after. Festive and happy. And it actually works for the girl who fits into this costume. I was lucky Mother Nature saved me and I didn’t have to fill in for her tonight.”

Recognizing her acute nervousness, Rory pulled his gaze away from her long, slim legs. He cleared his throat. “I…um…just followed you to see if I could help you with anything.”

She motioned toward his black suit and white shirt. “Are you sure you want to butter bread or stir tomato soup in a suit?”

He took off his jacket, loosened his tie and began rolling up his sleeves.

And Shannon’s mouth watered. Damn it. She’d already figured out she couldn’t be fantasizing about him. Sure, his shoulders were broad, his arms muscled. And she’d always been a sucker for a man in a white shirt with rolled-up sleeves looking like he was ready to get down to business. But as far as she could tell, he was married. That shut down the possibility of any relationship right then and there. Plus, she wanted him to buy her parents’ store. She couldn’t be drooling on him.

She hung up her coat, then scurried past him, into the kitchen and directly to the laundry room. Leaning on the closed door, she drew in a deep breath. God, he was gorgeous. But he was also married.

Married. Married. Married.

She forced the litany through her head, hoping it would sink in, as she grabbed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt from the dryer and changed into them.

When she returned to the kitchen he stood at the center island, buttering bread. “While we have a few seconds of privacy, I also wanted to apologize for Finley. I brought her because she’s on Christmas break from school and I hate to leave her with her nanny for an entire week. But I know she can be a handful.”

Walking over to join him, she said, “She’s just a little girl.”

“True, but she’s also recently entered a new phase of some sort where she stomps her foot when she doesn’t get her own way.”

Standing so close to him, she could smell his after-shave. Her breathing stuttered in and out of her lungs. So she laughed, trying to cover it. “A new phase, huh?”

“She was perfectly fine in preschool and kindergarten, but first grade is turning her into a diva.”

“Diva?”

“Yeah.” Smiling, he caught her gaze, and every nerve ending in her body lit up like the lights on the Christmas tree in Central Park. Spinning away from him, she repeated the litany in her head again.

Married. Married. Married!

“You know, I can easily handle this myself. You can use the den for privacy if you need to call your wife.”

He snorted a laugh. “Not hardly.”

She set the frying pan for the sandwiches on the stove and faced him again. “I’m sure she’s worried.”

“And I’m sure she and her new husband aren’t even thinking about me and Finley right now.”

“Oh.” Nerves rolled through her. He was divorced? Not married?

Their gazes caught. Attraction spun through her like snowflakes dancing in the light of a streetlamp. She reminded herself that they were about to do business, but it didn’t work to snuff out the snap and crackle of electricity sizzling between them.

She pivoted away from him. Pretending she needed all her concentration to open two cans of soup, she managed to avoid conversation. But that didn’t stop the chatter in her brain. As difficult as it might be to have a little girl around, she was abundantly glad Finley was with him. She might have had that quick fantasy of being stranded with him, but now that sanity had returned, she knew the sale of the store had to take precedence over a night of…she swallowed…passion? Good God, she hadn’t even thought the word in a year, let alone experienced it. She’d probably dissolve into a puddle if he made a pass at her.

Finley came out of the bedroom just as Rory set the sandwiches on the table and Shannon had finished ladling soup into the bright green bowls sitting on the pretty yellow place mats. She crawled onto a chair and spread her paper napkin on her lap.

Longing hit Shannon like an unexpected burst of winter wind. She remembered dreams of buying pretty dresses for her own little girl, her dreams of taking her to the park, gymnastics, dance lessons and soccer—

She stopped her thoughts, cut off the sadness and grief that wanted to engulf her. Surely, she could have a little girl in her house without breaking into a million shattered pieces? She hadn’t given up on the idea of becoming a mother altogether. She knew that once she adjusted to not having her own child, she could adopt. So maybe this was a good time to begin adjusting?

Finley sighed. “I don’t like red soup.”

Sounding very parental, Rory said, “That’s okay. Just eat your sandwich.”

Finley sighed heavily again, as if it were pure torture not to get her own way. Rory ignored her. Shannon studied her curiously, realizing that with Diva Finley she really would get a solid understanding of what it took to be a parent. She was like a little blond-haired litmus test for whether or not Shannon had what it took to adopt a child and be a mom.

Rory turned to her and said, “This is certainly a lovely old house.”

She faced Rory so quickly that their gazes collided. He had the darkest eyes she’d ever seen. And they were bottomless. Mesmerizing…

She gave herself a mental shake. It was pointless to be attracted. He wouldn’t make a pass at her with his daughter around, and she wouldn’t make a pass at him because they were about to do business. She had to stop noticing these things.

She cleared her throat. “The parts I’ve restored are great. But the whole heating system needs to be replaced.”

“Well, you’ve done a wonderful job on the renovations you have done.”

“Really?” She peeked up at him.

And everything Rory wanted to say fell out of his head. Her big blue eyes reminded him of the sky in summer. The black curls that curved around her face had his hand itching to touch them.

Finley sighed heavily. “I don’t want this soup.”

Rory faced her. “We already agreed that you didn’t have to eat it.”

“I don’t like that it’s here.”

“Here?”

“In front of me!”

Before Rory had a chance to react, Shannon rose with a smile. “Let me take it to the sink.”

She reached across the table, lifted the bowl and calmly walked it to the sink. Then she returned to the table and sat as if nothing had happened.

Technically nothing had happened. She’d diffused the potentially problematic soup episode just by reacting calmly.

Of course, he knew that was what he should have done, but after ten grueling hours on the road, he was every bit as tired and cranky as Finley. And this confusing attraction he felt for Shannon wasn’t helping things.

“I don’t want this sandwich.”

Here we go again. “Finley—”

“I’m tired.”

Before Rory could remind her he was, too, Shannon rose. “I have just the cure for being tired. A bubble bath.”

Finley instantly brightened. “Really?”

“I have all kinds of bubbles in my bathroom. It’s right beside the bedroom you’re using. Why don’t we go get a bath ready for you?”

Finley all but bounced off her chair. “All right!”

They disappeared down the hall to the bedroom, and Rory ran his hand down his face.

He didn’t know what would drive him crazy first, his daughter or his hormones.

CHAPTER TWO

SHANNON WALKED OUT of the kitchen with a happy Finley skipping behind her to the bathroom. Her self-pity long forgotten and her new mission in place, she was glad to help tired, frazzled Rory with his daughter. It would give her a chance for some one-on-one time with Finley, a chance to prove to herself that she was strong enough to be around kids. Strong enough to adopt one of her own, if she wanted to.

Unfortunately, the second they were out of Rory’s earshot, Finley the Diva returned. “You can go. I’ll fill the tub myself.”

Having watched her friends in Charleston handle their children, if nothing else, Shannon knew the grown-up in charge had to stay in charge. “I’m sure you could, but I want to do it.”

Finley crossed her arms on her chest and huffed out a sigh.

For Rory’s sake, Shannon didn’t laugh. “I like this scent,” she said, picking up her favorite bubble bath. “But you can choose whichever one you want.”

Finley chose another scent. Shannon shrugged. It didn’t matter to her which scent Finley used. She turned on the tap, poured in the liquid and faced Finley with a smile. “I’m going to leave the room while this fills up so you can undress. Call me when you’re ready to step in the tub.”

“I don’t need help.”

And with that comment, Shannon decided she had experimented enough for one night. She didn’t have the right to discipline this little girl and she definitely needed a firm hand. So she left this battle for Rory. “Okay. That’s great.”

She walked out of the bathroom and directly into the kitchen. “Tub is almost full and Finley’s stripping. You might want to go in and supervise.”

Rory rose. “She can bathe herself but I like to be in the next room just in case.” He glanced at the dishes and winced. “Sorry about that.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “I can load a few dishes into the dishwasher. You go on ahead.”

Alone in the kitchen for forty minutes, she wasn’t sure if Finley had decided to have an Olympic swim in her tub or if Rory was reading her a story…or if they’d found the TV and decided to stay on their own in the bedroom.

Whatever had happened, Shannon was fine with it. She knew they were both tired, weary. And once the dishes were stacked in the dishwasher and the kitchen cleaned, she had decorating to do. But just as she dragged the box of garland over to the sofa, Rory walked into the living room.

“Well, she’s down for the night.”

“I suspected she was tired.”

“Exhausted.”

“She’ll be happy in the morning.”

With a weary sigh, Rory fell to the couch. “How’d you get so smart about kids?”

His praise surprised her. Though she’d spent years watching her friends’ kids, longing for her own, she’d also all but ignored them this past difficult year. “I had some friends in South Carolina who had children. I used to babysit.”

He laughed. “You volunteered to hang around kids?”

“It’s always easier to handle children who aren’t yours.” She brushed her hands together to rid them of attic dust and stepped away from the box of decorations. Eager to change the subject, she said, “You sound like you could use a glass of wine.”

“Or a beer, if you have one.”

“I do.” She left the living room, got two beers from the refrigerator and gave one to Rory.

He relaxed on the couch, closed his eyes. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She glanced at the decorations, thinking she really should get started, but also knowing Rory was embarrassed about imposing and at his wits’ end. Deciding to be a Good Samaritan and give him someone to talk to, she gingerly sat on the sofa beside him. “Must have been some drive.”

“There was a point when I considered turning around because I could see things were getting worse, but the weather reports kept saying the storm would blow out soon.” He peered over at her. “It never did.”

“This will teach you to listen to weathermen.”

He laughed. Relaxed a little more. “So you ended up taking over your family’s business?”

“By default. I was perfectly happy to work with the buyers and in advertising for Raleigh’s. But my dad wanted to retire and I’m an only child.” She paused then smiled at him. “I see you also ended up in your dad’s job.”

Rory tilted his head, studying her. Her smile was pretty, genuine. Not flirtatious and certainly not enough to get his hormones going, but an odd tingle took up residence in his stomach. “Yeah. I did. Who would have thought ten years ago that we’d be running the two businesses we always talked about while I waited for Natalie for our dates?”

“Well, you were a shoo-in for your job. You’re the oldest son of a family that owns a business. I thought I was going to be a lawyer. Turns out law school is really, really dull.”

He laughed again, then realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed twice, back-to-back, in the same night. Warmth curled through him. Not like arousal from flirting. Not like happiness, but something else. Something richer. Not only was Shannon Raleigh a knockout and good with kids, but she was also easy to talk to—

Good grief. This strange feeling he was having was attraction. Real attraction. The next step beyond the hormone-driven reaction he had when he saw her in the little red dress.

Damn it. He was here to look at her family’s store to see if it was an appropriate investment for his family. He couldn’t be attracted to her. Not just that, but he was already a loser at love. He’d given in to the fun of flirting once. He’d let himself become vulnerable. Hell, he’d let himself tumble head over heels for someone, and he knew how that had turned out—with her leaving him on Christmas day two years ago, and all but deserting their daughter.

When he’d finally found her and asked about visitation, she’d told him she didn’t want to see Finley. Ever. Hoping that she’d change her mind in the two years that had passed, he’d run out of excuses to give Finley for missed birthdays and holidays. Pretty soon he was going to have to tell a six-year-old girl that her mother didn’t want her.

That broke his heart. Shattered it into a million painful pieces. Made him want to shake his ex-wife silly.

Which was why he’d never marry again. At this point in his life he wasn’t even sure he’d date again.

He rose from the sofa. “You know what? I’m tired, too. I’m going to have to figure out how to get my car from the interstate in the morning and I’m guessing for that I’m going to need a good night’s sleep.” He gave her a warm smile. “Thanks again for letting us stay.”

With that he turned and all but raced toward the door, but he didn’t get three steps before Shannon stopped him. “Rory?”

He turned.

She pointed at the sleeping bag rolled up at by the door. “You might want to take that.”

He sucked in a breath. The whole point of coming into the room had been to get his sleeping bag. Two minutes in her company and he’d forgotten that. “Yeah. Thanks.”

He scooped the sleeping bag from the floor. He hadn’t been this foolish around a woman in years.

He was glad he was leaving in the morning.

Shannon was awakened by the feeling of soft breath puffing in her face. She batted at it only to have her hand meet something solid.

Finley yelled, “Ouch!”

Shannon bolted up on the couch as several things popped into her head at once. First, she was sleeping in her living room. Second, she had company. Third, Finley was not the nicest child in the world. But, the all-important fourth, she would be alone with a child until Rory woke up.

“I’m hungry.” Finley’s tiny face scrunched. Her nose became a wrinkled button. Her mouth pulled down in an upside-down U.

Shannon pressed her lips together to keep from laughing. Which heartened her. Because Finley was forceful and demanding, not a cute little cuddle bug, it was easier for Shannon to deal with being around her.

She rolled out of her sleeping bag. Her friends had complained about being awakened by their children at ungodly hours. But a glance at the wall clock told her it was after eight. She couldn’t fault Finley for waking her. It might be Saturday, but she still had to be at the store by ten to open it.

Fortunately, she had enough time to make something to eat. “Well, I enjoy cooking breakfast so it looks like we’re both lucky this morning.”

That confused Finley so much that her frown wobbled.

Laughing, Shannon ruffled her hair. “Which do you prefer pancakes or waffles?”

“Do you have blueberries?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’d like pancakes.”

Shannon headed for the kitchen. “You and I are going to get along very well.”

As she pulled the ingredients for pancakes from the cupboards, Finley took a seat at the table. Before she started to make the batter, Shannon picked up the remote for her stereo and turned it on. A rousing rendition of “Here Comes Santa Claus” poured into the room.

“Would you like a glass of milk?”

“Yes, please.”

Shannon dipped into her refrigerator as Finley slid off her seat. Watching Finley walk to the counter, she grabbed the gallon of milk and pulled it out of the fridge. But before she could reach the counter, Finley had picked up the remote and turned off the music.

She blinked. “I was listening to that.”

“It was stupid.”

“It was a Christmas song.”

“And Christmas is stupid.”

Shannon gaped at her. Not just because she had the audacity to turn off the music without asking, but that was the second time she’d mentioned she didn’t like Christmas.

The temptation was strong to ask why, as she poured Finley a glass of milk, but she wasn’t quite sure how to approach it. Did she say, Hey, kid, everybody likes Christmas. You get gifts. You get cookies. What’s the deal?

As curious as she was, that seemed a lot like interfering and she was just getting accustomed to being around a child. She wasn’t ready for deep, personal interaction yet. Plus, saying she hated Christmas could just be a part of one of Finley the Diva’s tantrums. Or a way to manipulate people.

So, she turned to the counter and began preparing pancakes. A happy hum started in her throat and worked its way out, surprising her. Breakfast was one of the few meals she was well versed in. She could make a pancake or a waffle with the best of them. But it was a happy surprise to be able to be in the same room with Finley without worrying that she’d fall apart or dwell on her inability to have kids herself.

“So where do you go to school?”

“Winchester Academy.”

“Is that a private school?”

Finley nodded.

“Do you like school?”

“Sometimes. Artie Regan brings frogs and scares me. And Jenny Logan beats me to the swing.”

A motherly warmth flowed through her. When she wasn’t demanding her own way, Finley was normal. And here she was handling her. Talking to her. No flutters of panic. No feeling sorry for herself.

The kitchen door opened and Rory walked into the room yawning. “Sorry about that.”

“About what?” Shannon faced him with a smile, but the smile disappeared as her mouth went dry.

His dark hair was sticking out in all directions. His eyes didn’t seem to want to open. A day-old growth of beard sexily shadowed his chin and cheeks. He wore a white undershirt and navy blue sweats that loosely clung to his lean hips.

“About sleeping in. Normally, I’m up—” He paused. “Are you making pancakes?”

“Blueberry.”

“Wow. We should get stranded on an interstate more often.”

She laughed. Laughed. She had a sexy man and a cute little girl in her kitchen and she wasn’t stuttering or shattering, she was laughing.

But a little warning tweaked her brain. Not only was she enjoying this way too much, but it also would be over soon. They’d eat breakfast, pack up the few things they’d brought with them and head out.

She had about twenty minutes over breakfast before she’d be alone again.

Rory ambled to the counter, where the coffeemaker sputtered the last drops of fresh coffee into the pot. “Can I get you a cup?”

“That’d be great, thanks. Mugs are in the cupboard by the sink.”

But as he reached into the cupboard to get the mugs, his arm stopped. “Holy cats!”

Shannon paused her spoon in the pancake batter. “What?”

“There’s got to be two feet of snow out there.”

“That was the eventual predication after we already had eighteen inches.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t look like the snowplow went through.”

She dropped the spoon, hustled to the window beside him. “Wow.”

He turned and caught her gaze. “Even with that big SUV I saw in the driveway, I’ll bet you can’t get us out to a main road.”

Her heart lodged in her throat. Could they actually be forced to stay another day? Could she handle another day?

The answer came swiftly, without hesitation. She couldn’t just handle another day; she wanted another day.

“With all that snow, I’m not sure the main roads are even clear.”

“I’ll check the internet.”

“If the roads are still closed, you know you’re welcome to stay, right?”

“I think we may have to take you up on that.”

Though her heart leaped with anticipation, she pasted a disappointed-for-them look on her face. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She brightened her expression. “I don’t mind.”

Rory nudged his head toward Finley, who sat quietly at the kitchen table.

Lowering her voice, Shannon said, “She’ll be fine.”

“You want to be the one to tell her?”

“What do you say we get a pancake into her first?”

He tapped her nose. “Excellent idea.”

The friendly tap shouldn’t have made Shannon’s heart race, but it did. She pivoted away from him and returned to her pancake batter. They were staying another day as guests. Friends. Nothing more. But being friends meant no stress. No pressure. They could have a good time.

A good time, instead of a lonely, boring weekend.

Who would have thought the day before, when she’d stood trembling with fear over playing Santa’s helper, that today she’d welcome having a little girl spend the day with her?

She ladled batter onto the already warm grill and within minutes the sweet scent of pancakes filled the air.

As she piled pancakes on three plates, Rory found the maple syrup and took the pot of coffee to the table.

Finley eagerly grabbed her plate from Shannon. Without as much as a blink from her dad, she said, “Thank you.”

Shannon’s heart tweaked again. She glanced from happy Finley to relieved Rory. They had no idea how much their presence meant to her. Worse, they probably didn’t realize she was actually glad the snowplow hadn’t yet gone through. Their misery changed her incredibly lonely, probably bordering-toward-pathetic weekend into time with other people. Company for dinner the night before. Someone to make pancakes for. People who would eat lunch and maybe dinner with her.

And maybe even someone to bake sugar cookies with? A little girl who’d paint them with her child’s hand, giving them strokes and color and even mistakes only a child could make. Turning them into real Christmas cookies.

Rory pointed at his pancake. “These are great.”

Finley nodded in agreement. “These are great.”

“Thanks.”

Rory laughed and caught her gaze. “Thought you said you couldn’t cook?”

Her heart stuttered a bit. Not because he was paying attention to her, but because his dark eyes were filled with warmth and happiness. Casual happiness. The kind of happiness real friends shared. “I can’t, except for breakfast. But breakfast foods are usually easy.”

Turning his attention back to his plate, he said, “Well, these are delicious.”

Warmth filled her. Contentment. She gave herself a moment to soak it all in before she reached for her fork and tasted her own pancake.

Picking up his coffee cup, Rory said, “I can’t believe how much snow fell.”

“It is Pennsylvania.”

“How do you deal with it?”

“Well, on days like this, those of us who can stay in.”

“You play games maybe?”

Ah, she got what he was doing. He was paving the way to tell Finley they couldn’t leave. Probably hoping to show her she’d have a good day if they stayed.

“We do. We play lots of games. But we also bake cookies.”

Finley didn’t even glance up. Happily involved in her blueberry pancake, she ignored them.

Rory said, “I love cookies.”

“These are special cookies. They’re sugar cookies that I cut into shapes and then paint.”

“Paint?”

“With icing. I put colored icing on houses, churches, bells—”

Finley glanced up sharply. “You mean Christmas bells.”

Shannon winced. “Well, yes. I’m baking cookies for my family when we celebrate Christmas next week. But it’s still fun—”

“I hate Christmas!”

This was the third time Finley had said she hated Christmas. It wasn’t merely part of a tantrum or even a way to manipulate people. This little girl really didn’t like Christmas.

“Okay. So instead of baking cookies, how about if we play cards?”

“I thought we were leaving.”

Rory set his hand on top of Finley’s. “I’d like to leave. But I have to check to see if the roads are open. There’s a good possibility that we’re stranded here for another few hours, maybe even another day.”

Finley sighed heavily, like a billion-dollar heiress who’d just received bad news, and who would, at any second, explode. Shannon found herself holding her breath, waiting for Finley’s reply. Which was ridiculous. The kid was six. The weather wasn’t anybody’s fault. She was stuck and that was that.

Setting her fork on her plate, Shannon rose and said, “While I go to my room to check on the roads and call my staff, you drink your milk and finish your breakfast. Then we’ll put the dishes in the dishwasher and we’ll play Go Fish.”

Finley’s eyes narrowed and her mouth formed the upside-down U again. But Shannon ignored her. From her peripheral vision she watched Finley glare at her dad.

Without looking at her, Rory said, “I haven’t played Go Fish in years. I’m not sure I remember the rules.”

“It’s an easy game, Daddy.”

“Good. Then I should catch on quickly.”

Shannon took her plate to the sink. “Or maybe she’ll beat you.”

That brought a light to Finley’s eyes. When Shannon returned from checking the road conditions on the internet, calling her staff to say she wasn’t opening the store and calling the radio stations to alert the community that the store would be closed again, she returned to the kitchen. Finley eagerly helped clear the table, stacked dishes in the dishwasher and rifled through a kitchen drawer for a deck of cards.

“I had to close the store.”

Rory held up his cell phone. “I figured. I checked the road conditions. Nothing’s really open. Customers can’t get there anyway.”

As Finley approached the table with the cards, Shannon said, “So we’ll have some fun.”

Pulling a chair away from the round kitchen table, Rory said, “Yes, we will. Right, Finley?”

Finley sighed and shrugged, but also pulled out a chair and sat.

Shannon noticed that Rory more or less let Finley win the first game, so she went along, too. But when Rory handily won the second game, Shannon didn’t think it was out of line to play the third game without deference to Finley. But when she won, Finley exploded.

“You cheated!”

Shannon laughed. “No. Cheating takes all the sport out of a game. There’s no fun in winning if you haven’t really won.”

“I don’t care!” She swung her arm across the table, sending cards flying. But before her hand could slow down, she also thwacked her milk. The glass went airborne and landed on the floor. Sticky white milk poured everywhere.

Mortally embarrassed by Finley’s outburst, Rory bounced from the table. “Finley!”

Finley bounced off her chair and raced to the kitchen door. “I hate you!”

The swinging door slammed closed when she flew through it.

Shannon rose and grabbed the paper towels. “Sorry. I should have let her win again.”

Rory rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “No. We were playing a game. She knows she can’t win every time.” He rubbed his neck again. He’d only ever told his parents about the trouble in his marriage and he certainly hadn’t intended to tell Shannon because, technically, they didn’t really know each other. But deep down Finley was a sweet little girl who deserved defending.

He fell to his seat again. “Finley’s behavior isn’t the fault of a confused six-year-old, but a mom who abandoned her.”

Using a paper towel to sop up the milk, Shannon said, “What?”

“Her mom,” Rory said, not quite sure how to broach this subject because he hadn’t spoken with anyone about his ex. So he had no practice, no frame of reference for what to say.

He lifted his eyes until he could catch Shannon’s gaze. “Finley’s mom left us two years ago on Christmas day.”

Shannon took the wet paper towels to the trash. Confusion laced her voice when she said, “Your ex left you on Christmas day?”

“Yeah, that’s why Finley’s sensitive about Christmas. But what’s worse is that her mom doesn’t want to see her at all. She doesn’t like kids. Didn’t want kids.”

Shannon returned to the table and fell to her chair, trying to force all that to sink in but not quite able to comprehend. She’d spent her entire adult life attempting to get pregnant, longing for a child, and Finley’s mom had left her without a backward glance?

“My ex never did anything she didn’t want to do.” He rose from the chair, pushed it out of his way and stooped to pick up the scattered cards.

“That’s amazing.”

He shrugged, but his pinched expression told her he wasn’t so cavalier about it. “She’d said at the outset of our marriage that she didn’t want kids.” Finished gathering the cards, he rose. “Her getting pregnant was a surprise, but I thought we were ready. Turns out she wasn’t.”

Shannon sat in stunned silence. Rory’s wife had abandoned her daughter? Disbelief thundered through her, along with a sense of injustice. While she’d do anything, give anything, to be able to have a child, Finley’s mom had simply abandoned one?

How could a woman be so cruel?

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