No Christmas Like the Present by Sierra Donovan

unknown pretty girl with both hands, before he had a chance to know her.
    But Lindsay must need him for something else, or he wouldn’t be here. So he’d bring Christmas to her the best way he knew how: one moment at a time.
    Finally Lindsay pronounced the mixture hot enough to add the chocolate chips. Followed by yet more stirring, until at last she determined it was time to remove it from the heat.
    â€œAll right,” he said. “Ready for the moment of truth?”
    Lindsay looked at him quizzically.
    Fred held a wooden spoonful of fudge up in front of her, waving it lightly through the air to cool it. “Here. Time to see if I’ve got it right.”
    Lindsay looked at him over the spoon, a wonderful complication of emotions in her eyes. Did she want him to win or lose the bet? Fred wasn’t sure she knew the answer herself. She turned her face up toward him as he held the spoon to her lips. And then, as she tasted it, she closed her eyes, savoring the chocolate. Her expression was one of blissful surrender.
    This was the real Lindsay, her face unguarded, completely in the moment. Very much like a woman lost in a kiss.
    He never should have brought the bloody mistletoe.

Chapter 4

    Dear Aunt Arline,
    Hope this finds you feeling well. How’s the weather in Minnesota?
    It’s a little late in the season, but this morning I put up my Christmas tree with

    Lindsay scratched out the word “with” and put a period at the end of the sentence. There was no way she could explain Fred.
    The carols on the stereo had stopped. Out of sheer stubbornness, Lindsay tried to keep working, but the silence nagged at her. Finally she got up. But before she changed the music, she went into the kitchen for some eggnog. Only because it would expire soon.
    Okay, so Fred was right about some things. He hadn’t really been telling her anything she didn’t already know. For years, she’d been trying to get more out of Christmas. That was why she bought eggnog in the first place.
    But Steven?
    Fred was way off base on that one. His “Headquarters” database must have a huge glitch. After the way she’d left things with Steven, the man would probably throw rocks at her if he ever saw her again. It hadn’t been the right way to break up with a boyfriend; it wasn’t even a good way to treat a friend. And Steven had been a friend, her best friend, all through high school.
    Their dating relationship came so gradually that Lindsay was hard-pressed to remember exactly when it started. They’d met the summer before their freshman year in high school, when Steven moved into Lindsay’s neighborhood. He lived a block away, so there was no need for a car when they started getting together to study. Lindsay was horrible at algebra; Steven never knew where to put a comma in an essay. It was a seamless give-and-take.
    When there were dances at school, they paired up. No need to wait around, hoping some guy she barely knew would ask her. Not even that good-looking football player, who ended up getting expelled for sneaking booze into one too many school events. So wasn’t it just as well?
    She did remember their first kiss, a nose-bumping affair outside Lindsay’s front door, and that she was glad it was Steven because neither of them had to be embarrassed about it. What she didn’t remember was any spark. Nothing like the way she’d felt when Fred’s hand brushed hers just handing her the Christmas tree lights.
    Steven had liked Christmas too. And Lindsay had loved it. There’d been so much more time for things then—no obligations other than school and, later, a part-time job at McDonald’s. Not nearly so many people to buy for. Plenty of time for planning and wrapping and finding just the right present. Steven had been easy to shop for; they were together so much she knew exactly what kind of sweater he needed or what CD he wanted. Everything had come