His Holiday Heart by Jillian Hart Page B

the wrong way.” He liked the way humor made Lucy’s voice musical. She winked at him, a private wink that only he could see, before she turned to face the rest of the family. “You need to find a better match for him. Maybe there’s a single woman somewhere who is looking for a curmudgeon. Think hard. Maybe you know someone.”
    Laughter roared around the table. He felt a few chuckles break free.
    “Look!” Rebecca pointed accusingly. “Spence is laughing. ”
    It was just his luck that someone noticed. He had to deny it. He had his reputation to think of. “It was an accident.”
    “An accidental laugh?” Judging by the look on her lovely face, Lucy didn’t believe him one bit.
    She was a smart woman but not that he was going to admit it. He dug his fork into the mound of mashed potatoes. His best defenses were up, and they were going to stay that way.
    “Oh, ho.” Gran sounded delighted. “That’s a sign.”
    “It’s not a sign,” he barked through his mashed potatoes.
    “Lucy, you ought to come to church with us on Sunday.” Dorrie’s hopes had apparently bounced back. “I’ll host the family dinner, and you will be the guest of honor. John, tell Spence to be on his best behavior.”
    “I didn’t know he had a best behavior,” John quipped.
    While his family laughed at him, Spence took it in stride. He couldn’t say that he didn’t deserve it. They could rib him all they wanted; he wasn’t going to buckle. Although he expected better from his dad. Dad ought to understand his serious reservations with a woman like Lucy.
    “I’m afraid I can’t make it, Dorrie.” Lucy’s apology sounded sincere enough, and he closed his ears to the sound of her voice. He didn’t want to listen to her. He didn’t want to know anything more about her.
    She was probably the kind of woman who worked all Sunday through. He supposed it took a lot of ruthless ambition to get where Lucy had in her career. No way was he going to have anything to do with a woman like that, except she didn’t look ruthless.
    He loaded his fork with more potatoes. He could see her out of the corners of his eyes, sharing words with Gran. The room around him went fuzzy and out of focus. The conversations around the table turned to static. The only thing he could see clearly was Lucy, golden and bright, in her modest forest green dress and a plain cross on a gold chain, looking like everything good and right in the world, like everything he had ever wanted.
    Looks could be deceiving. He hardened his heart because he had to. He could not give in to the temptation. He had to stop liking Lucy Chapin. He had to get a hold of himself, make his brain and his eyes function correctly. He had to stop this crush he had on her; it was like a blight to his heart.
    He grabbed his knife and buttered his roll. He just had to get through this meal. Then he never had to interact with Lucy again. He could go back to avoiding her at the bookstore and at church and snarling at her whenever she got into his path.
    It wasn’t ideal; it wasn’t what he wanted, but it was the best plan he could come up with. Judging by the way his sisters and Dorrie were watching Lucy, as if she were their last hope, he had to do something and fast.
     
    “How did you like the meal, Lucy?”
    “It was delicious, Dorrie.” She set the stack of plates on the counter next to the sink, choosing to turn on the water and let it warm instead of facing Spence’s mother directly. How on earth was she going to talk to this woman? Anything she had to say would disappoint poor, hopeful Dorrie. “It was the best Thanksgiving meal I’ve had in some time. You are an amazing cook.”
    “Hardly, but that’s nice of you to say.” She set a tray of dirty dishes on the counter. “I hope you felt at home with us today. Spence comes across very brusque.”
    “He certainly does.” Lucy turned on the faucet.
    “He’s a wonderful man. I keep praying for a nice woman to come along and