Heather Graham Pozzessere - The Christmas Bride

by The Christmas Bride

  She felt her heart—she could have sworn that she actually felt her heart—swelling. Tears welled behind her eyelids, and she almost choked on them. She swallowed. Hard. A smile slowly curved her lips. I love you, Danny, she thought.

  “Look Danny,” Santa said, managing to interrupt him at last. “I—I’d like to make you a promise, but I can’t. You see, grown-ups have to—well, they have to find people that they like themselves sometimes.”

  “I know you can help me,” Danny said stubbornly.

  Santa opened his mouth, then closed it. Danny had a stubborn streak in him. And this Santa knew it very well.

  “I’ll tell you what, Danny. I’ll see what I can do. But that’s not an easy Christmas order. It’s absolutely the hardest. You may have to give me more than one Christmas to fill that wish, all right?”

  “But you’ll work on it?”

  Santa sighed. “I’ve been working on it,” he muttered, then smiled. “Of course I’ll work on it. Hard. I promise.”

  “Thank you,” Danny said simply. “I’ll help you. I’ll wish on the North Star every night.”

  Santa nodded. “And what about this Christmas?”

  “Oh, well, I’d like that computer made especially for kids my age. The one they have at school.”

  Cary almost muttered an expletive out loud. Danny would never say he wanted anything. And now he was asking for something she could never afford. She knew the computer he was working with at school. It was a wonderful invention, with talk-it-through word processing and talk-it-through graphics for math and art projects.

  I’ll bet I could even straighten out my income taxes with it, she thought wryly.

  But, unlike many other computers, this one had yet to come down in price. The whole outfit cost thousands, and she didn’t know if she could manage the payments even if she bought it on time.

  Jeremy obviously didn’t know the price of the computer. “That’s easy!” he assured Danny. “I can definitely work on that one!” He set Danny on his feet and reached into the big red bag by his high black boots. “For the moment, my boy, I’ve got a remote-control car for you, how’s that?”

  “Great, Santa!” Danny said. “It’s great, honest, just great. And thanks, thanks a lot.”

  Danny escaped through the curtain, Jeremy started to summon Isabelle to lead in the next child when he happened to look up and notice Cary standing there. He stared at her for a second, then crooked his finger toward her.

  “Come here, Cary Adams!” he commanded.

  She stepped forward. “Sorry, I was eavesdropping. I couldn’t quite—”

  She managed to swallow a little squeal as he wound his arms around her and pulled her onto his lap.

  “I hear you’ve been a very good girl,” he told her, and winked.

  “Would you quit that, you lech, I’m your cousin!” she protested, laughing.

  “Second cousin,” he reminded her, and sighed.

  “Close enough, so behave.”

  “Well, you heard your son, Mrs. Adams,” he told her. “He wants someone for you. And I’ve tried and tried—”

  “Jeremy, you’re a dear, and I love you with all my heart, and you know it. And you know, too, that you aren’t a bit serious about me—”

  “I could be, if you would just get over this relative bit,” he said jokingly.

  “Jeremy—”

  “What about that electrician who was built like a bodybuilder?” he demanded darkly.

  She had to smile. “Sorry. He wore his boxer shorts up to his boobs.”

  “The lawyer from Concord?”

  “He was cross-eyed, I swear it.”

  “Cary,” Jeremy told her sternly, “no one is going to be Richard. That lawyer was not cross-eyed.”

  She caught her breath and stared into his eyes, seeing his concern and love. She exhaled slowly. “I know no one will be Richard, Jeremy. Honestly, I know that. But he—he would have to live up to Richard, can you understand that?”

  He started to nod then maybe he realized that she was very close to tears, so he shook his head vehemently. “Mrs. Adams, your boy has been very good all year. And I think—”

  “I think you got me into a lot of trouble!” Cary interrupted him.

  “Me?” Jeremy said in mock distress. “I have been an absolute angel!”

  “Jeremy, you’ve never been an angel, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

  “Oh?” he murmured, wounded.

  “You promised him a father!”

  “Hey! I gave you a few years.”

  “Thanks. That was really swell of you.”

  “I do try to please.”

  “And then, on top of that, you promised him a gift I can’t possibly afford!”

  “What?” For a moment, Jeremy was serious, frowning. “I thought computers prices were coming down!”

  “They are—but not the setup Danny wants. It costs thousands, Jeremy.”

  “I’ll help—”

  “Like hell you will. I don’t take charity from the family, Jeremy, and you know it.”

  “Hey! I have every right to buy my little cousin a Christmas present.”

  “Sure. And if I ever manage to afford that system, you can buy him a game or some software.”

  “Stubborn, stubborn, stubborn,” Jeremy insisted. Then his eyes brightened. “We might get Christmas bonuses.”

  “That much?”

  “Maybe. After all,” he teased, lightness returning to his voice, “you’ve been a good girl yourself. Too good. Atrociously, boringly good. So I’m going to sprinkle you with Christmas dust. And the next man you see is going to be the man of your dreams. Rich as Midas, sleeker than a Mercedes Benz, tender, gentle and kind. Tall, dark and handsome. Danny’s Christmas present—and yours. And the Christmas dust is going to make you run right out and be bad with him. How’s that?”

  She was laughing. “The next man I see will probably be old Pete from the mail room, he of the ten children and eighteen million grandchildren. But hey, knock yourself out. Sprinkle away with Christmas dust. Maybe I’ll at least find a suitable date for the adult Christmas party. What do you think?”

  “I think that your time’s up,” Jeremy said. “If the one adult I get on my lap all day can’t ask for one lousy, decadent present, you may as well stand!”

  Laughing, she found her feet. “I’m telling you, Santa sure isn’t what he used to be,” she said with mock horror. She started toward the exit when she stopped short, suddenly aware that someone was blocking the red-curtained exit door.

  Someone big. She couldn’t see who it was right away, because the flare from the Christmas lights was in her eyes. All she could catch was the form, tall, imposing, totally blocking the exit. Dark. Even forbidding.

  For a moment her heart fluttered, and she didn’t know why. She felt an acute sense of unease.

  How silly, she told herself. She didn’t know why she was so startled by the masculine figure in the dark tux.

  She took a step forward, then realized who the man was. She should have known him instantly from his height alone.

  It was none other than their host himself. Her boss. The illustrious Mr. Jason McCready.

  There had been rumors that many a female at Elegance had foolishly cast away her heart and pride on his behalf. McCready wasn’t interested. He never dated his employees, and when he made his necessary social appearances with women, they were never the same from one occasion to the next. Still, Cary knew that June found him irresistible.

  That was undoubtedly because June had never ventured into his office with a story proposal, Cary decided.

  She took another step forward, deeply irritated with herself. Then she paused again, because of the way he was staring at her.

  Once again it seemed as if those green eyes sliced her like steel blades. The scent of him slowly curled around her; it was subtle, but very masculine and…alluring, she had to admit. He was compelling, standing there. So tall, so dark, his shoulders br
oad, his hips lean. She wondered about his chest. It would be deeply muscled, she was certain. Hairy, or sleek and bare? Hairy, she was sure. Darkly hairy, with a narrow whorl that drew a line from his chest to his…

  She jerked her head up and stared into his eyes, horrified. He stepped back, lifting the curtain for her.

  “Mrs. Adams?”

  She gritted her teeth and started forward. She had meant to see him sometime during the day to thank him for the party, but now she couldn’t seem to muster up a thank you. In fact, she couldn’t seem to speak at all.

  “Mrs. Adams!”

  She looked up and realized she was very close to him. Close enough to see the texture of his tux, the snow-white pleats of his shirt. The angles and planes of his face, the sensual fullness of his mouth.

  “Yes?” she managed.

  “I had intended Santa’s lap for those children among us who are under, say, fifteen.”

  How long had he been standing there? How could she explain?

  She didn’t know if he was seriously angry or if he was teasing her. She still couldn’t find a reply. Nor could she seem to tear her eyes from his.

  “Mr. McCready, I…”

  He smiled, which made him seem more striking, younger. Almost touchable. Her voice died away as he stared at her.

  “I do not want your desk cleared out by five, Mrs. Adams,” he said softly. “I still find your work exceptional.”

  “Thank you,” she managed. He was still staring at her. She couldn’t smile; she couldn’t speak. He didn’t expect her to. He was just watching her.

  She turned away at last and fled down the steps, hurrying toward June. Just as she reached the bottom step, she realized a little girl was waiting on the landing, waiting for Cary to move so she could run up the steps herself.

  But the girl waited politely, with a beautiful smile. She must have been about six or seven, and she had light blond hair caught up in pigtails tied with red ribbons. She looked like an angel, delicate, sweet, with a haunting, wistful smile that instantly tugged at Cary’s heartstrings.

  “Is Santa free now?” she asked Cary.

  Cary heard June’s laughter, and she blushed. Then she returned the little girl’s smile. “Yes, Santa is free, I think. Of course, there is a line around the other way. I’m not sure—”

  “Oh!” the girl cried, stricken. “I have to leave, you see, and my father said it might be okay to slip around this way. But it would be rude to take someone else’s place.”

  “Angela, it really is okay. We’ll be quick, and the others will understand,” came a deep masculine voice over Cary’s shoulder.

  She turned in dismay. McCready again. But this sweet, delicate little child couldn’t possibly be his daughter….

  Yes, she was, Cary realized. She stared from McCready’s gaze to the little girl’s wide eyes. “Excuse me,” she murmured lamely. “Honey, if you have to leave, I know Santa will be thrilled to see you, and no one will mind at all.”

  Angela McCready smiled again. “Thank you.” She started up the stairs, then turned back. “It was nice to meet you, Miss…”

  “Mrs. Adams. Cary,” Cary told her. And once again that smile crossed the little girl’s lips.

  “Mrs. Adams!” Angela McCready exclaimed happily. Cary arched a brow, and Angela continued quickly. “You must be Danny’s mother.”

  Cary nodded, still confused.

  Angela enlightened her. “We sat together for the magic show. And he taught me how to do a trick. He’s really wonderful.”

  “Yes, well, I rather think so myself,” Cary agreed.

  “I hope I see him—and you—again,” Angela McCready said.

  There was such hope on her face that Cary couldn’t disappoint her. “I’m sure we’ll meet again,” she said.

  McCready’s eyes were on her, sharp, unfathomable. Cary felt herself growing warm. But then he and his daughter disappeared into the cardboard Santa hut, and Cary turned away.

  It had all happened in a matter of moments, she realized. Running into McCready, meeting his daughter, sitting on Jeremy’s lap…

  Jeremy and his Christmas dust! she thought with disgust. So much for Jeremy’s prophesies.

  “Danny’s watching the puppeteer. I told him it would be all right,” June said. “Let’s go for a glass of that delicious champagne. I don’t get to indulge in the really good stuff all that often.”

  “Champagne sounds wonderful,” Cary agreed. She was parched. More parched than she could remember being. Except for the time she had gone into Jason McCready’s office with her notebook and great expectations.

  They walked to the champagne table, where a polite bartender helped them both. Cary toasted June, then raised her glass and sipped her champagne.

  The next man you see, Jeremy had told her. She didn’t want a man for Christmas. Sometimes she wondered if she would ever want another man in her life.

  And then sometimes…

  Sometimes she was lonely and frightened, furious with Richard for leaving her, and sometimes she ached because he had taught her that love could be so very sweet, and then he had been gone, leaving nothing in her life except for the pain and the blackness and the void. She had tried to date, but she had always backed away quickly. Because…

  Because no one had ever touched her in the same way. No one had ever made a kiss seem natural. No one had ever seduced her to where she could forget…

  “Cary, are you still with me?”

  “What? Oh, I’m sorry.” She realized she had been ignoring June. They were sipping champagne. It was a party. And she was having a good time. Well, she was almost having a good time.

  She started to smile. Jeremy. Santa. Where would she be without him?

  Him and his prophesies!

  The first man she had seen hadn’t been old Pete from the mail room after all.

  She suddenly choked on the champagne.

  No, it had been someone much worse.

  Jason McCready.

  Tall, dark and handsome. And rich. Just like June had ordered…

  Cary swallowed more champagne.

  No, no, no…

  So much for Christmas dust and miracles!

  Chapter 2

  Jason McCready had a headache. One that pounded viciously at the back of his skull as he drove toward his house.

  He knew he was disappointing Angela by leaving the party so early, but he’d really wanted to go home.

  The party had really been Sara’s baby.

  Oh, he’d always had a Christmas party. And he’d always tried very hard to do right by his employees. He hadn’t been born to money, nor had he inherited the magazine. He had built it. He knew what it was like to work hard. And more, he knew what it was like to dream.

  And once he had even known what it was like to hold magic in the palm of his hand. There had been a time when he had had everything.

  He’d had Sara.

  Sara had loved Christmas. She’d loved winter, the snow and the clean, cold air. She’d loved the bright lights and the decorations, the Santas in the stores and on the street corners, the specials on television. Just sitting with her before a fire had meant more than anything in the world to him. He’d really, truly had everything.

  But that had been before the December night when a drunk driver had plowed into Sara’s silver sports car with enough speed to kill her instantly. The only miracle had been that she had just dropped Angela off for a Christmas party, and so he was left with his very young daughter when he had been bereft of his wife.

  But others had handled Angela for him then. In his grief, he realized now, he had deprived her of two parents instead of one. It had taken months for him to rouse himself enough to care for Angela. And now he was trying very hard to make it up to her.

  “Can he, Dad?”

  “What? Sorry, darling. I guess I wasn’t listening,” Jason apologized. The traffic was bad tonight. Fresh snow had made the streets slippery.

  “Danny. Danny Adams. Can
he come skiiing with us?”

  “What?”

  “I said—”

  “No, no, I’m sorry, I did hear you, I just…”

  “He was so nice, Dad. He—he made me laugh. And he understood when I—”

  Angela broke off speaking.

  “He understood what?” Jason asked her curiously. He braked quickly for a red light. On a street corner, a Salvation Army volunteer was waving a bell that clanged away, chiming out the Christmas season with a cheerful vengeance.

  Why did he feel the loss so much more keenly every Christmas? Jason asked himself. It was a time for peace, a time for faith.

  “Nothing,” Angela murmured evasively. “He’s just—he’s just great. Couldn’t we ask him, please?”

  “Honey, his mother is one of my employees. I don’t know if I should bother her with this.” His mother wasn’t just an employee. She was Mrs. Cary Adams, and since he’d been watching her for quite some time now, he could almost guarantee she would tell him no.

  Angela didn’t seem to see it that way. “His mother was very nice, and I don’t think she’d be bothered at all,” Angela said stubbornly.

  Why shouldn’t he ask a friend along for Angela? Guilt plagued him. He hadn’t thought how lonely things must become for her now and then. She had the run of the lodge, of course, but it was true. She had no special friends.

  Except for now. She was crazy about this Danny.

  Jason had to admit that the boy seemed to be a special kid. There was something in his smile. It was nice. It was open, generous. He’d taken a few hard knocks himself, but he’d come through with that great smile. Jason knew about Danny Adams’s life because he’d made a point to know something about Cary Adams. He’d done so the day she’d come into his office—and walked out of it with her head held high.

  He would never forget that day. Just as he hadn’t been able to forget Cary Adams.

  She was petite. She had a smooth, soft, melodic voice, but she had a certain essence of steel about her. When he thought about it, he realized that she was a very beautiful woman, with her sweeping dark hair and richly lashed hazel eyes. They burned when she was indignant or angry. He smiled. She wasn’t flashy. She was nicely, quietly sophisticated. Something wild or ornate might draw a glance first, but once a person’s eyes had fixed on her quiet elegance, they were compelled to stay.