“Then I’ll assure you in writing that the time you spend living with the other women will in no way jeopardize our agreement. You can type up the papers yourself.”

  He watched her and waited. Waited while the interminable minutes passed. He couldn’t believe that one small decision would require such concentration.

  “Will you or won’t you?” he demanded when he couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

  “I will,” she said, “but on one condition. I want to talk to the others first and make sure I won’t be intruding.”

  Christian groaned, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands. “Midnight Sons is paying the rent!”

  “I’m well aware of that,” Mariah said coolly.

  “If I wanted to move the entire French Foreign Legion into that house, then I’d do it.”

  “No, you wouldn’t,” Mariah said with a know-it-all grin. “First, Sawyer wouldn’t let you and—”

  “It was a figure of speech.” Christian now fought the urge to pull out his hair. No one on earth could anger him as quickly as Mariah Douglas. The year she was contracted to work for him couldn’t end fast enough. Not until she left Hard Luck would he be able to sleep through the night again.

  A wreath hung inside the door of the Hard Luck Café. Flashing miniature lights were strung around the windows. Christmas cards were pinned to one wall in a straggling triangle. Bethany guessed the shape was supposed to represent a Christmas tree.

  The thank-you notes the children had written following his visit to the classroom were taped against another wall for everyone who came into the café to see. The worn look of those notes told her Ben had read them countless times himself.

  “It’s beginning to look downright festive around here,” Bethany said as she stepped up to the counter.

  “Christmas is my favorite holiday,” Ben declared. “How about a piece of mincemeat pie to go with your coffee? It’s on the house.”

  “Actually I don’t have time for either,” Bethany said regretfully. She was on her way to church for choir practice and only had a few minutes. “I came to invite you to my house for Christmas dinner.”

  Ben’s mouth opened and a look of utter astonishment crossed his face. “I thought…Me? What about Mitch and Chrissie? Aren’t they spending the day with you?”

  “I invited them, too. I’m sure I’m not half as good in the kitchen as you are, but I should be able to manage turkey and all the trimmings. Besides, you might enjoy tasting someone else’s cooking for a change.”

  He frowned as though this was a weighty decision. “I like my turkey with sage dressing and giblet gravy.”

  “You got it. My mom always stuffs the bird with sage dressing, and my dad makes giblet gravy. I wouldn’t know how to do it any other way.” When he seemed about to refuse, she added, “If you want to contribute something, you can bring one of those mincemeat pies you’re trying to fatten me up with.”

  Ben turned away from her and reached for the rag. He began to wipe the already clean countertop. “I…I don’t know what to say.” His eyes continued to avoid hers.

  “Just say yes. Dinner’s at three.”

  He gestured weakly. “I always keep the place open.”

  “Close it this year.” She almost suggested he should spend the holiday with family, but managed to stop herself. Still, she felt close to Ben; she did feel he was family. Perhaps this was emotionally dangerous, but being with him on Christmas Day might help ease the ache of missing her parents.

  “Folks generally spend Christmas Day with family,” he said. It was as if he’d been able to read her thoughts. “I don’t have any left,” he told her in a low voice. “At least, none who’d want me dropping in unannounced at Christmas.”

  “I’ll be your family, Ben,” she offered, waiting for her heart to stop its crazy beating. He had no way of knowing how much truth there was in her words. “And you can be mine. For this one day, anyhow.”

  “Won’t I be in the way? I mean, with you and—”

  Bethany reached for his hand. “I wouldn’t have invited you if that was the case.”

  “What about you and Mitch? You two are spending a lot of time together lately—which is good,” he hastened to say. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mitch look happier, and what I hear is that there’s a night-and-day difference with Chrissie. She used to be a shy little thing.”

  Bethany had the feeling he would’ve rambled on for an hour if she hadn’t stopped him.

  “Ben!” She laughed outright. “I’m asking you to Christmas dinner. Will you come or not? I need to know how much food to prepare.”

  She watched his throat work convulsively. “No one ever asked me to Christmas dinner,” he said in a strangled voice.

  “Well, someone is now.”

  He met her look and his eyes grew suspiciously bright. “What time do you want me there again?”

  “Dinner’s at three. You come as early as you like, though.”

  “All right,” he said with some difficulty. “I’ll be there, and I’ll bring one of my pies.”

  “Good. I’ll see you Christmas Day.” Having settled that, Bethany left the café.

  “Bethany,” Ben called, “if you need any help making that gravy, you let me know.”

  “I will. Thanks for offering.”

  Not until she was outside, with the cold clawing at her face, did she realize there were tears in her eyes. She quickly brushed them away and hurried to the church.

  Christmas was supposed to be a joyous time of year. It would be, Matt Caldwell thought, if Karen was with him. He glanced around the Anchorage church. The harder he tried not to think about his ex-wife, the more difficult it became to concentrate on the hymnbook in his hands.

  Perhaps it was because the last time he’d been in this church was after his grandmother’s death. The sadness that had taken hold of his heart then hadn’t faded in the weeks since.

  Matt hadn’t made church a habit of late. The fact was, he and God weren’t on the best of terms. He was quite comfortable ignoring the presence of an almighty being, since evidence of God had been sorely lacking in his life these past few years.

  It didn’t help that he was once again the only family member who was alone. His parents stood on one side of him, and Lanni and Charles on the other. Those two were so much in love it was painful just being around them.

  Although Lanni enjoyed her work with the Anchorage News, she hated the long separations from Charles. April couldn’t come soon enough as far as she was concerned.

  The Christmas Eve church services continued, and the members of the congregation lifted their voices in song. Matt wasn’t in any frame of mind to join in. He’d worked hard during the past few months. Damned hard. Other than his obvious purpose of getting the lodge ready, he’d driven himself in a single-minded effort, but whether it was to impress Karen or get her out of his system, he no longer knew.

  He couldn’t help wondering how his ex-wife was spending Christmas. He was pretty confident she wouldn’t have a white Christmas in California.

  Was she alone, the way he was? Did she feel empty inside? Was she thinking of him?

  Somehow he doubted it, considering how impulsively she’d left Alaska. It still bothered him that she hadn’t so much as told him she was moving. Instead, she’d contacted his sister, knowing Lanni would tell him.

  Once the interminable singing ended, there was the predictable Christmas pageant. Despite his misery, Matt found himself smiling as the Sunday school children gave the performance they’d no doubt been rehearsing for months.

  This year, instead of a doll, they had a newborn infant playing the role of the baby Jesus. This child was anything but meek and mild. In fact, he let out a scream that echoed through the church and started all the children giggling.

  Well, that was what they got for using a real baby.

  A baby.

  He froze on the thought. Babies. Children. He glanced around the congregation and noticed a number of families with small children.

  Karen had wanted children. They’d had more than one heated discussion on that subject. Matt had been against it; he didn’t feel ready for fatherhood. Not when his future and career remained unsettled. In retrospect, he could see he’d been right. Dragging a child through a divorce would’ve been criminal.

  Now the likelihood of his having a family was remote at best. He discovered, somewhat to his surprise, that the realization brought with it a new pain. Great. Just what he needed. Another resentment to harbor. Another casualty of his dead marriage. Something else to flail himself with.

  He was relieved when the church service ended. At least he hadn’t been subjected to a lengthy sermon on top of the singing and the pageant.

  Once they were home, his family gathered around the Christmas tree. Traditionally they opened their gifts on Christmas Eve. It had taken some doing for him to dredge up enough energy to spring for gifts, but he’d managed it.

  “How about hot apple cider?” Lanni asked.

  “Sure,” he said, faking a smile. It didn’t seem fair to burden everyone else with his misery.

  His sister brought him a cup, then sat down next to him. Their mother was busy in the kitchen and his father was talking to Charles.

  “I hoped we’d have a minute alone before opening the gifts,” Lanni whispered. She searched through the mound of gaily wrapped presents; beneath one of them she found what she was looking for. An envelope. She handed it to him.

  Matt looked at his name on the envelope and instantly recognized the handwriting as Karen’s. His heart skipped a beat, and he raised his eyes to his sister’s, not sure what to think.

  “How’d you get this?”

  “Karen mailed a gift to me and to Mom and Dad. It was in the same package.”

  “I…see.” His hand closed tightly over the envelope.

  “There’s something else,” Lanni said, her gaze avoiding his.

  “Yes?” He was eager to escape to his room and read what Karen had written.

  “Our wedding…”

  “What about it?”

  “Would you mind very much if Karen served as my maid of honor?”

  Matt stared at his sister, not understanding. “You want her in your wedding party?”

  “Yes,” she said, then quickly added, “But only if you don’t object. I wouldn’t want it to be uncomfortable for you, Matt. You’re my brother, after all, and she was your wife—but she’s still my friend.”

  “Why should I care?” he mumbled. “It’s your wedding.” With that, he left the room.

  Once he was inside his old bedroom, Matt threw himself on the bed and tore open the envelope. A single sheet of paper fell from the card. Heart pounding, he unfolded it and read:

  Merry Christmas, Matt.

  It didn’t seem right to mail gifts to Lanni and your parents and send you nothing. But at the same time, it’s a bit awkward to buy my ex-husband a Christmas gift.

  I hope this card finds you well.

  Sincerely,

  Karen

  Sincerely. She’d actually signed the note sincerely. As if it was some kind of business letter or he was merely a casual acquaintance. He picked up the Christmas card he’d discarded earlier and found she’d written nothing but her name.

  Still, sending a Christmas card was more than he’d done for her. He supposed he’d have to add that to his long list of failures and regrets.

  Chapter 8

  Mitch woke early Christmas morning.

  Not wanting to wake Chrissie, he moved silently into the living room, where the miniature lights on the tree glittered like frosted stars. He smiled at their decorations—paper chains, strung popcorn and handmade ornaments.

  He rearranged the gifts under the tree. He’d placed them there the night before, after Chrissie had gone to bed. He knew she didn’t believe in Santa Claus anymore, but it was fun for both of them to keep up the pretense.

  The largest present wasn’t from him but Bethany. A Barbie thingamajig. Town house or some such nonsense. Only it wasn’t nonsense to Chrissie; the kid took her Barbie seriously. She’d be thrilled with this. He knew Chrissie would be happily absorbed with her gifts all morning, and then later, in the afternoon, they were going to Bethany’s place for a turkey dinner with all the fixings.

  Bethany.

  He needed these quiet early-morning moments to clear his thoughts and make sense of his feelings.

  It had happened.

  Despite his resistance, his best efforts to prevent it, despite his vows to the contrary, despite the full force of his determination, he’d gone and fallen in love with Bethany Ross.

  He didn’t want to love Bethany, and in the same breath, he found himself humbled that this remarkable woman had entered his life. Especially after Lori. Especially now.

  Mitch paced the living room, too restless to sit. Admitting that he cared deeply for Bethany required some sort of decision. A man didn’t come to this kind of realization without defining a course of action.

  He knew he had nothing to offer her. While it was true that he made enough money to support a family, his financial status wasn’t impressive. Somehow he doubted this would matter to Bethany, but still…

  He was dismally aware, too, that he came to her with deep emotional scars and a needy child in tow. The mere thought of loving again, of trusting again, terrified him. It made him break out in a cold sweat. On top of everything else was the paralyzing fear that he’d fail Bethany the way he had Lori.

  Then again, he reminded himself, he had options. He could do what he’d done since September—deny his feelings. Ignore what his heart was telling him.

  He might’ve continued that way for months, possibly years, if it wasn’t for one thing.

  Chrissie.

  From the moment his daughter had met Bethany, she’d set her sights on turning the teacher into her mother and his wife. Watching the two of them together had touched him from the very first. In ways he’d never fully understand, Bethany ministered to his daughter’s need for a mother in the same way she satisfied his own long-repressed desire for a companion. A wife…

  As the weeks progressed, Chrissie had started looking to Bethany for guidance more and more often. There wasn’t anything Chrissie wouldn’t do to be with her—including feign flu symptoms.

  What confounded him was the fact that Bethany seemed to share his feelings. He felt her love as powerfully as those brief moments of sunlight every day, brightening the world in the darkness of an Arctic winter.

  Admitting his love for Bethany—to her and to himself—wasn’t a simple thing. Love rarely was, he suspected. If he told her how he felt about her, he’d also have to tell her about his past.

  Love implied trust. And he’d need to trust her with the painful details of his marriage. With that came the tremendous risk of her rejection. He wouldn’t blame her if she did turn away. If the situation were reversed, he didn’t know how he’d react. He was laying an enormous burden on her.

  Telling her all this wasn’t something he could do on the spur of the moment. Timing was critical. He’d have to wait for the right day, the right mood.

  Not this morning, he decided. Not on Christmas. He refused to spoil the day’s celebration with the ugliness of his past. No need to darken the holiday with a litany of his failures as a husband.

  “Daddy?” Chrissie stood just inside the living room doorway yawning. She wore her pretty new flannel pajamas—the one gift he’d allowed her to open Christmas Eve.

  “Merry Christmas, pumpkin,” he said, opening his arms to her. “It looks like Santa made it to Hard Luck, after all.”

  Chrissie leapt into his embrace and he folded his arms around her, slowly closing his eyes. His daughter was the most precious gift he’d ever been given. And now, finding Bethany…His heart was full.

  “I can’t believe I ate the whole thing,” Ben teased, placing his hands on the bulge of his stomach and sighing heavily. He eased his chair away from the kitchen table. “If anyone else finds out what a good cook you are, Bethany, I’ll be out of business before I know it.”

  Bethany smiled, delighted with his praise. “I don’t think you need to worry. Those pies of yours were fabulous, especially the mincemeat. I’d like to get your recipe.”

  Ben grinned. “Sure. No problem. It’s one I came up with myself—I like to try new things when I cook. How about you? Have you always been this good in the kitchen?”

  It was another trait she shared with her birth father, but once again this wasn’t something she could mention.

  She nodded. “While other little girls were playing with dolls and makeup, I was using my Betty Crocker Baking Center to concoct all kinds of cookies and cakes.”

  “Well, all that practice sure paid off,” Mitch said.

  Bethany blushed a little at the compliments. She’d done her best to put on a spread worthy of their praise. The meal had taken weeks of careful planning; she’d had to special-order some of the ingredients, and her mother had mailed her the spices. A lot of the dishes she’d made were traditional family recipes. Mashed sweet potatoes with dried apricots and lots of butter. Sage dressing, of course, and another rice-and-raisin dressing that had been a favorite of hers, one her grandmother made every year.

  “You miss your family, don’t you?” Mitch asked as he helped her clear the table.

  “Everyone does at Christmas, don’t you think?” This first year so far away from her parents and two younger brothers had been more difficult than she’d expected; this morning had been particularly wrenching. She knew they missed her, too. Bethany had spoken to her family in California at least once a day for the past week. She didn’t care how high her phone bill ran.

  “I must’ve chatted to Mom three times this morning alone,” she told Mitch. “It’s funny. For years I’ve helped her with Thanksgiving and Christmas dinners, but when it came to doing it on my own, I had a dozen questions.”