Shenandoah Christmas. Lynnette Kent

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СКАЧАТЬ gestured at the meat case. “Which one works the best?”

      That small smile of his broke again. “Oh. No, I don’t do the fancy stuff. But I think my mother-in-law uses chuck roast.” Leaning across her, he lifted a huge hunk of meat out of the cooler one-handed. “Like this.”

      “Ah.” Cait held out her hands and he eased the roast into her grasp. Mother-in-law. So much for options. “Thanks for the help.”

      He nodded. “Anytime.”

      Don’t I wish. Feeling like a kid denied her lollipop, Cait pushed her cart toward the dairy section. Anna needed to drink milk every day. Two percent? Whole? Skim?

      And why were all the really great men already married, anyway?

      The ultimate torture was standing behind that same guy in the checkout line—her chance to pick up all the details she’d missed before. An easy stance, a strong jawline, square, long-fingered hands which saw their share of physical labor, if a few healing cuts were anything to go by. Not to mention all the kid groceries in his cart—small juice cartons, boxes of animal crackers, fruit roll snacks and cereal with marshmallow shapes. The guy not only had a mother-in-law. He had children.

      A tune from a few years back came to mind, a daughter singing about the strength and love in her daddy’s hands. This man had that kind of caring, working hands. Lucky kids.

      Lucky wife.

      Cait shook her head and fixed her gaze on the tabloids in the rack beside her cart. After ten exhausting years, her music career was about to break into the big time. She had a New Year’s Eve slot on a major network show and an album scheduled to start production in the spring. Who needed a husband and kids? Or a house to keep?

      Anna was the domestic sister, the homemaker, the mom-to-be. Cait knew herself for the wanderer, seldom happy for more than a little while in one place. She hadn’t seen a town she couldn’t leave. Hadn’t met anyone she wanted more than she wanted the smiles and the tears, the sighs and the applause, of a live audience.

      But she had to admit, watching the guy in the cinnamon sweater reach for his wallet, that an available man who looked as good as this one might tempt her into changing her mind.

      BEN FELT the presence of the woman behind him in the checkout line as if the air around them stirred slightly every time she took a breath. That minute by the meat case had left him with fleeting impressions. Hair in every shade from gold to copper, tamed into a thick braid over her shoulder. Eyes the color of spring leaves, fringed by dark lashes. Skin as smooth as a little girl’s, sprinkled with freckles. A cigarettes-and-whiskey kind of voice which, along with the fact that she looked very much like her sister, told him who she must be. Cait Gregory, superstar, was shopping for pot roast at the Food Depot in Goodwill, Virginia.

      He could see what Maddie meant about “sparkle.” Ms. Gregory possessed the kind of charisma he’d noticed in movie stars and politicians during his years with the Secret Service in Washington. If what he’d heard about her recent concert tour was true, she could reduce a rowdy crowd to absolute, focused silence with the sound of her voice. Even “pot roast” sounded sexy when Cait Gregory said it.

      Unloading his sacks of groceries into the back of the Suburban, Ben sat behind the wheel with the motor running and faced the fact that he should have introduced himself to his kids’ choir director, if only to be neighborly. They would meet at church eventually. She would wonder why he’d kept quiet, especially since she’d obviously been willing to give him more than just the time of day.

      Maybe that was why he hadn’t said more. Cait Gregory demanded acknowledgment as an attractive, sensual member of the very opposite sex. The soft green sweater that molded the curves of her breasts, the snug jeans that emphasized the flare of her hips…

      Ben shook his head and jerked the truck into reverse. He’d noticed a hell of a lot more about Cait Gregory than he was comfortable with. He hadn’t thought about a woman as female since Valerie’s death, and he didn’t want to start now.

      Especially not with this particular woman. One look at her red hair, at the hint of temper in the arch of her eyebrows and the tilt of her lips, foretold every kind of emotional experience but peace. And peace was all Ben really wanted.

      So she could just take her tempest somewhere, and to someone, else. He did not intend to pursue more than the slightest, most temporary acquaintance with the famous Ms. Gregory. His life worked okay these days; he gave everything he had to taking care of Shep and Maddie and to building his custom furniture business. That was the way he liked it and nobody was going to make him change his mind.

      Ben dared them even to try.

      ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, Harry Shepherd got home from work an hour later than he’d planned. He usually finished early at the office on Fridays, but today’s meeting had run long, there had been a report to generate afterward, and some new figures faxed in just as he was getting ready to leave. As vice president of one of the country’s leading furniture manufacturers, he never walked out the door until the week’s work was done.

      But the grandkids were due for supper any minute. He and Peg took them on Friday nights to give Ben a little privacy and a chance to get out, if he wanted, without worrying about Maddie and Shep. As far as Harry could tell, though, all his son-in-law did with his free time was go back to work. Harry wished that would change. Harry had been the one to suggest Ben set up his own custom-made furniture business and he knew that getting a new enterprise off the ground required a great deal of focused effort. But some time off now and again brought a fresh attitude and increased energy to the job. Besides, Ben needed a social life. A man shouldn’t spend all his days and nights with his kids.

      Headlights flashed on the trees at the end of the driveway as Ben’s Suburban pulled in. Within seconds, Maddie jumped out and grabbed Harry around the waist. “Hi, Grandpa! We’re here!”

      “I can see that, Magpie.” He rubbed his hand over her curls, so like her mother’s had been at that age. Shep trailed behind her, his head down as he studied the toy plane in his hands. “Very nice,” Harry said. “Is that the one that broke the sound barrier?” The little boy glanced up out of the sides of his eyes and nodded, but didn’t volunteer any more contact. Would they ever see him smile again, or hear his voice?

      “Hey, Harry.” Ben joined them and they walked as a group up the steps onto the porch. “You sure you feel up to dealing with these characters tonight?”

      Peggy had opened the front door. “Of course we do. Come in, Maddie, darling. Oh, Shep, how did you get that tear in your sweater?”

      “That’s what little boys are designed for, Peg.” Harry put a hand on her shoulder, leaned in for his welcome-home kiss. Her cheeks were still rose-petal smooth, although she and Harry had both hit sixty this year. “The apparel industry counts on him to make sure his clothes don’t last too long.”

      Unlike Harry’s company, which made furniture that lasted for generations. He took a lot of pride in having helped to build a reputation for quality.

      Peggy clucked her tongue, examining Shep’s sleeve. The boy pulled away, leaving the sweater hanging in her hands. “Shameful waste, if you ask me.” She sighed, but only in part, Harry knew, because of the garment. Shep’s withdrawal worried her deeply. “I’ll mend it later. Meanwhile, all of you come in. I’ve got some cheese and crackers set out. What would you like to drink, Maddie?”

      Kneeling СКАЧАТЬ