by Emma Miller
Nothing happened.
He glanced over his shoulder. “You might want to hang on. You can wrap your arms around me. I won’t bite.”
He couldn’t see a thing through the face shield of the helmet, but he would have bet she was rolling her eyes.
“I’ve known you all of five minutes,” she said.
“Suit yourself.” He released the clutch, and the tires rolled and crunched over the snow.
Alec did his best to make the ride a smooth one. Tossing his new boss out of her seat didn’t seem like a smart thing to do, even though she would have had it coming. Apparently, she was every bit as stubborn as she was cute. Great.
Despite the fact that Alec had cleared the path with a snowblower an hour or so ago, it was a bit bumpy. Just as they made their way around the log cabin, which stood at the front of the property, the bike hit a slippery groove in the hard-packed snow. The motorcycle lurched to the right. Alec corrected the steering before Zoey could take a tumble, but immediately afterward he felt her arms wrap around his waist.
I told you so, his thoughts screamed. Even so, having her arms around him wasn’t altogether unpleasant.
She held on tight until they reached the fence and Alec cut the engine. Then she hopped off. With record-breaking swiftness.
“You didn’t ride all the way here from Washington on this thing, did you?” she asked as she removed the helmet.
He took it from her and hung it on the handlebars. “How else do you think it got here?”
“It sounds a little dangerous. Not to mention cold.” She made an attempt to smooth her hair. It wasn’t all that successful.
For some reason, the sight of her—cheeks pink, perfect blond hair slightly mussed—made him smile. “You don’t like motorcycles?”
“I didn’t say that.” She didn’t have to. “It just doesn’t seem like the most practical method of transportation this close to the arctic circle. But suit yourself.”
Oh, I will. He didn’t need her permission to drive his motorcycle. He could ride around in a flying saucer if he wanted. She might be his boss, but she wasn’t his mother.
Not that his mother had ever cared a whit about him. She’d been too busy getting high and avoiding the angry swings of his father to pay much attention to him.
He stalked toward the fence without saying a word. Zoey crunched through the snow behind him.
The Chugach mountain range rose before them in jagged silver peaks. Low-hanging clouds obscured the mountaintops, and a layer of what looked like fog spread out over the base of the foothills. Then the fog rolled toward them. A spectacular set of antlers came into view. Then another, and another.
Dozens of reindeer trotted toward them, kicking up snow so thick that their legs were barely visible. They appeared to float in a snowy mist, as though carried by a cloud of glittering ice crystals.
“Oh, my,” Zoey whispered.
Alec recognized the wonder in her tone. He’d felt the same way the first time he’d seen the reindeer. As much as he hated to admit it, the sight of them still sometimes took his breath away. Even if the whole thing was a little too Norman Rockwell for his taste.
“Beautiful, aren’t they?” he asked, his throat growing tight.
“They sure are.” Her green eyes sparkled. “Are they always so quiet? I feel as if I’m looking at a dream...something that’s not quite real.”
He took a sidelong glance at Zoey and felt a wholly unexpected flicker of connection with her. “They typically don’t make much noise. I think they like the cold. They seem happy to run and play most of the time.”
Then she opened her mouth, and the moment was gone. “You mean play reindeer games?”
She just had to go there—the saccharine-sweet Christmas route. He really should have expected it.
With great reluctance, Alec said, “I suppose you could call it that.”
She laughed, oblivious to the mercurial change in his mood. “I just had no idea. Gus never told me about any of this.”
And yet the man had given it to her. All of it. “I suppose this sort of thing happens to you all the time.”
She frowned but somehow managed to look all wide-eyed and innocent. “What sort of thing?”
“Inheriting reindeer farms and the like.” He hadn’t meant to inject acid into his tone, but there it was all the same.
“Actually, no. It doesn’t.” Zoey’s eyes flashed. Alec was thrown for a minute by the fire in her gaze. Fire aimed directly at him. “If you think I’m some sort of spoiled princess, Mr. Wynn, you’re sorely mistaken. I suppose I can’t really blame you. Usually people who inherit things—houses, money, reindeer—come from privilege. Or at least from loving homes. I have neither of those things. So you might want to revisit your first impression of me. I’m not your average heiress.”
She spun on her heel and stomped back down the path toward the waiting SUV, leaving Alec to wonder what had just transpired.
Zoey Hathaway had surprised him. And people didn’t surprise him often. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had.
Zoey Hathaway...average?
Hardly.
Copyright © 2013 by Teri Wilson
ISBN-13: 9781460321898
YULETIDE TWINS
Copyright © 2013 by Renee Andrews
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
www.Harlequin.com
The Gift Of Forgiveness
Gavin Sawyer knows he’s in trouble the moment he meets Evie Thorne at the downtown Denver mission where they both volunteer. He’s drawn to the pretty journalist, even though reporters have caused him nothing but heartache in the past. Soon Gavin begins to let his guard down as he sees that this wonderful woman may be someone he can trust with his heart. But when he brings her home to meet his family during the holidays, Evie’s secret past suddenly comes to light. Will their newfound love survive when he learns the truth?
“Let me walk you to your car.” Gavin slipped on his coat.
“You think I’m afraid of the dark?” Evie laughed up at him. The black of her coat hood contrasted with the pink in her cheeks, and her eyes sparked with interest. He dragged his gaze away.
“I’m sure you’re not.” He pulled on the long metal handle of the front door and held it open for her. “Better safe than sorry.”
He grimaced inwardly. That was his personal motto—it would probably be written on his tombstone. Here lies Gavin, better safe than sorry. Just as soon as he walked Evie to her car, he’d go back to being safe, because she was the type of woman who promised a whole lot of sorry. Smart, sweet, funny…and tied to a newspaper. Couldn’t get much further from safe than that. He had a lot on his plate without adding trouble to it. Now, if he could just remember that when he looked in those gorgeous blue eyes.
Books by Virginia Carmichael
Love Inspired
Season of Joy
Season of Hope
VIRGINIA CARMICHAEL
was born near the Rocky Mountains, and although she has traveled around the world, the wilds of Colorado run in her veins. A big fan of the wide-open sky and all four seasons, she believes in embracing the small moments of everyday life. A homeschooling mom of six young children who rarely wear shoes, those moments usually involve a lot of noise, a lot of mess or a whole bunch of warm cookies. Virginia holds degrees in Linguistics and Religious Studies from the University of Oregon. She lives with her habanero-eating husband, Crusberto, who is her polar opposite in all things except faith. They’ve learned to speak in shorthand code and look forward to the day they can actually finish a sentence. In the meantime, Virginia thanks God for the laughter and abundance of hugs that fill her day as she plots her next book.
SEASON OF HOPE
Virginia Carmichael
But Jesus said to them, “It is I. Do not be afraid.”
—John 6:20
For my sister, Susan, who loves without boundaries.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Dear Reader
Questions for Discussion
Chapter One
Late, as usual. Evie swung the door of the Downtown Denver Mission open and dashed inside. The lobby was toasty, even though a bitterly cold November evening wind blew off the Rockies and right down Broadway without pausing to add a few degrees. She strode across the polished floor, her gaze taking in the large wooden cross that hung from the upper level.
She loved that old cross. It was so simple, so strong. It had brought her back to a life of forgiveness and hope. Her steps slowed and she took a deep breath. There wasn’t anything to be gained by running, except a few more seconds.
Now that she wasn’t flying through the lobby, she noticed a large poster announcing the Christmas tree–lighting ceremony. She smiled, knowing how excited the city’s kids would be. One of the biggest parties of the year, it brought the whole Mission family together, as the tree was delivered on an old-fashioned sled pulled through downtown by horses. Often as not, it snowed through the party, but that was part of living in Denver.
The sound of her own footsteps rang in the cavernous lobby. Must take a ton of money to keep this place warm. She couldn’t imagine trying to balance the comfort of the residents and the reality of the electricity bill. But that was why she was here. An empty spot on the finance committee, her brother, Jack’s, annoying ability to get his way and an extra dash of guilt meant Evie was the Mission’s newest volunteer.
She glanced at the large, decorative mirror mounted to the nearest wall and tucked her dark hair behind her ears. Snow melting along the collar of her coat, blue eyes, generous mouth and the flush of a woman who’d been running late all day. She’d heard she was pretty, even beautiful, but sometimes when Evie looked in the mirror, all she saw was her twin brother, Jack. Same quirky smile, same off-center dimples, same arched brows that made them look just a bit mischievous.
Except for that little bit of sadness in her eyes that was all her own, a shadowy reminder of too many years running after the wrong things, too many nights awake staring at the ceiling. She smoothed her slightly wrinkled office clothes and forced her mouth into a smile she hoped would pass as genuine.
Evie paused at the long, low front desk. She’d been volunteering for years at the Mission, mostly during the holidays or when they were short-staffed. Now, for the first time, she had a position. The responsibility felt heavy on her shoulders. “Hi, Lana. Do I smell cookies?”
“Gingerbread. It’s a rule that we can’t have finance meetings without cookies. Take one.” The secretary lifted up the plate, a smile creasing her face.
“Oh, great rule.” Evie snagged a soft, round cookie and took a bite. She’d pay for the cookie later. Power walking an extra mile or two at the gym might cover it. But she wouldn’t think about that right now.
Lana tipped her head toward the offices. “It’s hard enough to make tough money decisions. A little bit of gingerbread goes a long way toward keeping everybody happy.” Purple-tipped hair, cut military short, gave the impression that the secretary was a little nutty. Add in the wheelchair and Lana was the poster child for unconventional. But Evie had never been anything but impressed by Lana’s warmth and professionalism.
“Thanks for this,” she said, turning toward the office area.
“Welcome. We’ve got all your papers filed, but remember to turn in the background check waiver.”
Evie popped the last bit of deliciousness into her mouth and nodded. She wondered briefly if she would have any chance of stealing Lana away from the mission. Better pay, fewer hours, more vacation. Working at a big newspaper wouldn’t be so different from what Lana was doing now, with coordinating all the paperwork and the staff.
Her whole body turned taut with anger as she caught herself. Old habits die hard. Plotting to steal away the Mission secretary might be a momentary bit of shallowness for some, but for her, with all the ugly past she carried, it burned like a searchlight on her weakness. Over and over she had made the very worst choices with only her selfishness as a guide.
And even now, years after she’d walked away from a miserable situation made by her own bitter jealousy, she caught herself slipping. Self-loathing and frailty, it all felt so familiar. She dragged in a breath, willing the chill to pass. All she could do was continue to ask for grace and hold on to hope. A girl with a past like hers didn’t have much choice.
“Evie!” She knew even before she turned it was Jack, his cheery tone echoing around the lobby. He was half a foot taller and a hundred times more fun. Just the sight of him, with his energetic bounce, made her forced smile morph into something absolutely genuine.
“Wait up. I got stuck in traffic. Oh, and here’s Gavin. Looks like everybody’s late tonight.” Jack motioned toward the entry and tugged off his ski jacket as he spoke.
A man with sandy blond hair stepped through the glass double doors. He didn’t look up, gaze focused a few feet in front, mouth set in a line. More than preoccupied, he seemed to be carrying the worries of the whole city.
Evie cocked her head, watching him. So, this was the Gavin Sawyer who liked to snowboard with Jack up on Wolf Mountain. From what her brother had said, she’d gotten the impression Gavin was sort of an awkward science type, obsessed with viruses and germs. The man striding toward them was the furthest thing from a pale, nerdy lab rat that she could have imagined. Broad shoulders, strong jaw, he was classically handsome but for the little bit of a hunch to his shoulders, like he’d spent his life feeling too tall for the room. His suit fit well, the shirt pressed and tie straight.
This was not a guy who would be happy behind a desk all day, or in a cube farm. She gave him another head-to-toe survey, trying to pinpoint what it was that gave her that gut feeling. Athleticism, maybe. He was only a few feet away and still hadn’t noticed them. He seemed to be in his own world. He looked down at his watch and she grinned. There was something bright on the face, like a cartoon, and the strap was cherry-red.
“Wow. Earth to Evie.” Jack’s comment was followed by a loud snort of laughter.
She turned, face already heating. �
�Sorry, what did you say?”
“Let me introduce you.” He stepped directly in Gavin’s path.
“Wait, Jack. I don’t—” She gave up and let him go. Trailing behind her twin, she attempted to look collected and cool. Jack was the outgoing, popular one. Give her a frantic newsroom an hour before the paper went to press anytime, but small talk just wasn’t her strong point.
Jack clapped a hand on Gavin’s shoulder in greeting. “Hey, you made it. This is my sister, Evie. She’s the editor of The Chronicle and our new board member.”
He turned, face polite, perfect mouth lifted in a smile. But Evie saw a flash of something in his expression that made her catch her breath. A narrowing of the eyes, a thinning of his lips. It was dislike, clear and simple.
“Hi. Glad you’ve joined us.” Gavin’s deep voice caught her by surprise. His tone was perfectly pleasant, if a bit distant. Nothing there suggested the feelings she’d sensed just seconds ago.
“Thank you.” She flashed a bright smile and focused on slipping out of her blue wool coat. She struggled to compose her thoughts, letting her hair hide her face for a moment. Had Jack told him an unflattering story? Was Gavin one of those naturally distrusting types? She could understand that, just a little. But the expression he’d had was more disdain. Her stomach dropped a few inches as she wondered just what he’d heard. Or seen.
“Gavin is our resident disease specialist so if you have any odd rashes, be sure to let him know,” Jack teased as he walked to Lana’s desk and took two cookies.
There was an awkward pause. She crossed her arms and looked at Jack, who was grinning at her. She wanted to smack him.
Gavin let out a deep chuckle and shook his head. Disease specialist didn’t sound like a particularly fun job and certainly didn’t fit with her first impression, but the guy took Jack’s teasing in stride. Better than Evie, who barely resisted giving her brother the look of death.