The Christmas Bride by Heather Graham Pozzessere

restaurant, it was late. The children were barely in the car before Cary turned and realized they were fast asleep, one slumped on the other.
    Jason was silent for a while, and Cary felt her eyes flickering shut. Then Jason suddenly spoke.
    â€œThe kids are out?”
    â€œFast asleep,” she assured him.
    â€œI just wanted to say thanks. Thanks very much for coming.”
    â€œThank you. The suite is beautiful. Too beautiful. I think I would have been happier with something, er, smaller.”
    She saw the slow curve of his smile. “Mrs. Adams, you are worth it.”
    â€œWell, thank you,” Cary murmured. He didn’t reply. The motion of the car as it sped through the night mixed with the warmth of its heater, and her eyes kept closing. Then they closed one final time and she couldn’t quite get them open.
    It startled him when her head fell on his shoulder. Jason almost jumped, but he managed to hold still. The soft, sweet scent of her hair teased his nose, and for a moment he held his breath.
    A poignant anguish stole slowly over him, seeming to seep into him like water over porous rock.
    It had been so long….
    Sara had fallen asleep on him like that.
    He’d been out a number of times since her death. And though he was certain that he’d always been courteous, he knew, too, that he’d always been distant, and he’d seldom seen any woman more than once. According to a number of tabloids, he’d become a very eligible bachelor, but in his heart, he knew he would never be that. He couldn’t retain his interest in anyone; he couldn’t look at beauty with more than a casual eye. He hadn’t really dated; he’d had arrangements, and that had been that. Strange, because he had been intimate with some of those women, but…
    He’d never come so close that one of them might fall asleep on his shoulder.
    And Cary was certainly the only woman he would allow to be there.
    He didn’t know why. He did know that he hadn’t thanked her just for Angela. He had thanked her for himself, as well. It had been years since he had really laughed. Years since he had been anxious for a day to end so that he might see someone—other than Angela—again.
    Her hair brushed his chin. Soft and satiny, so warm with its rich brown depths. Like silk, it teased over his flesh. His fingers tightened on the wheel, and he clenched his jaw as he felt sudden, volatile stirrings of desire rise hard within him. His initial anguish had faded away. The present—and this woman—held all his attention. He couldn’t remember wanting anyone quite this way. It was ironic.
    She was probably the one woman who would not want him.
    She made a soft sound in her sleep as she curved against the warmth of his body more comfortably. Her fingers curled over his shoulder. And then her hand slipped and fell to his thigh.
    He clamped down on his jaw even harder.
    Cary awoke when the car jerked to a halt. Almost instantly, she was sitting upright, wondering how she had been sleeping.
    But Jason McCready was already out of the car, and she didn’t know whether to apologize or not.
    â€œThis is it,” he said curtly. “We’re here.” For once on this trip, he wasn’t being terribly polite.
    â€œYes. I’ll, uh, I’ll just get Danny.”
    â€œI’ll get Danny. He’s a lot heavier than my daughter. You carry Angela. If you think you can.”
    â€œWell, of course I can—”
    â€œI meant that you’re so tired yourself. And hell, you’re not a lot bigger than either of them.”
    â€œI can manage,” Cary said irritably.
    â€œYes, yes, you can manage.” Jason quickly had Danny in his arms. She bent down for Angela, and his next words seemed to slap her right in the face. “Have I ever told you that you remind me of a porcupine at times?”
    With her young burden in her arms, Cary stiffened and swung around.