The Christmas Bride by Heather Graham Pozzessere Page A

“What a lovely comparison. Thank you so much, Mr. McCready.”
    â€œI didn’t say that you looked like a porcupine, Mrs. Adams. You’re a very beautiful woman, and you must know that. Even though your husband hasn’t been around for a long time to tell you, I’m sure that other men have. Or maybe not. With those porcupine bristles of yours, maybe no one has managed to get close enough.”
    â€œThank you again. You do have my life right down to a tee, Mr. McCready. And with all the women you date! Don’t you dare judge me!”
    Cary delivered the last statement with her nose in the air, then turned quickly on her heel and headed for the lodge.
    He was right behind her. “All the women I date?” he inquired.
    â€œAh, yes, if it’s Tuesday, it must be a redhead,” Cary said sweetly as they reached the door to the lodge.
    â€œI didn’t know you had been paying so much attention to my dating habits,” Jason said.
    Cary wasn’t able to reply. Randy Skylar was there to open the door for them. “Let me take her,” he offered Cary, and without giving her a chance to refuse, he swept Angela into his arms. Cary followed the two men up the stairs to the suites, forcing a smile to answer Randy’s polite questions about their dinner.
    Jason laid Danny on his bed. Randy had taken Angela into Jason’s suite, so Cary and Jason were left alone to stare at one another, the sprawled and comfortable body of Cary’s son between them.
    â€œGood night, Mrs. Adams,” Jason said softly.
    â€œGood night,” Cary murmured. “Thank you for dinner. It was lovely.”
    His slow, rueful smile curved his lips. “Yes, it actually was.” Then he brushed by her and left. And, oddly, Cary could feel the entire length of her side where he had touched her so lightly and so briefly. It was so much warmer than the other side….
    Funny, she had been so tired. But even after she had tucked Danny in and changed into a comfortable flannel gown, she couldn’t sleep at all.
    She pulled the pillow over her head, gritted her teeth and willed sleep to come. But for the longest time it didn’t.
    She kept feeling the warmth of her side and wondering how closely she had leaned against Jason McCready when sleep had come so easily in his car.
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    There was a note beneath her door in the morning. It was handwritten, and she recognized Jason’s handwriting from the Christmas cards she had received over the last few years. It was a broad, large script, very legible, and somehow like the man, firm and powerful. The message was brief but courteous. He was tied up for the day, but she mustn’t feel that she needed to tend only to the children. There were programs for them all morning, movies, lessons on the bunny slopes, whatever. She was welcome to spend her day however she chose, and she shouldn’t worry. His staff were wonderful with children.
    Cary didn’t mind spending her time with the children, but she did have an article she wanted to edit, and with a magazine’s deadlines, time could be very precious. She decided to have breakfast with the kids, then work for a while, then go down to the bunny slopes with them.
    The day worked out as she had planned it. They breakfasted in her suite; then Angela and Danny traipsed off to see cartoons. Cary started to work in front of the main fireplace in the suite. She wondered if she would be able to concentrate, but to her great pleasure, she found that the comfort of the lodge and the snap and crackle of the fire were definite pluses. She didn’t dig her nose out of her manuscript until two o’clock, when she had accomplished everything she had wanted.
    Pleased, she dressed in her own best rendition of a ski outfit—clinging knit pants, a warm wool sweater and a windbreaker—and went in search of the children. They were just finishing lunch, and both were pleased that she was