The Christmas Bride by Heather Graham Pozzessere Page B

going to join them on the bunny slopes.
    â€œI don’t ski,” Cary told Angela. “That puts me on the bunny slope with you and Danny. Except that I’ll bet that you can ski.”
    Angela could ski. Beautifully. But she spent the afternoon with Cary and Danny and the young ski instructor, laughing delightedly as Cary and Danny struggled with the equipment and a new sense of balance. Cary, overwhelmed at first by the heavy boots, the skis and all the safety tips she was being given, swore she would never be able to manage. But by early evening she was delighted. She was managing the slopes. She was skiing! And she was thrilled with the rush of pleasure and exhilaration that negotiating the small slopes brought her.
    She was also cold. She and Danny and Angela headed into the lodge. The children had hot chocolate; she decided on an Irish coffee. It was very good, but since she hadn’t bothered with lunch, the hot drink seemed to hit her like lead.
    She and the children decided to have dinner in the suite. And by the time they finished with the delicious linguine, the kids seemed willing enough to go to bed. Angela slipped through the door into her own suite. Cary hesitated, told Danny to get ready for bed and followed Angela into Jason McCready’s private quarters.
    His suite was obviously never rented out. It had the same view of the pool, the same handsome pine walls and deep plush carpeting. There was more of a feeling of home to his rooms. There were beautiful mountain prints on the walls, and a cabinet filled with curious sculptures and knickknacks. A handsome oak secretary was covered with papers, and on a coffee table before the sofa were several issues of Elegance and other magazines. On a side table was a picture frame. It contained the perfect family photo. Jason McCready surrounded by the two women he loved, a much younger Angela and Sara, both with their beautiful blue eyes and angelic halos of soft blond hair.
    Cary suddenly felt as if she was intruding, and she almost backed away. But Jason McCready had never given her any decrees about not entering his private domain, so she hurried through the living room to tap at one of the bedroom doors. “Angela?”
    â€œCary? Come in.”
    Angela was already in her red flannel nightdress, her hair flowing down her back, her eyes wide and bright. Looking at her, Cary felt a peculiar rush of emotion, her heart tearing for Sara McCready. She’s so beautiful, Sara! Cary thought. If only you could see her!
    â€œI just came to…to see if you wanted to be tucked in,” Cary told her.
    Angela’s eyes widened. “Yes, please. Thank you very much.”
    So Cary tucked her in, kissed her on the forehead and promised to see her bright and early the next morning. She went to her suite and tucked Danny in, then changed into her flannel gown. But once again, as exhausted as she should have been, she couldn’t sleep. She got out of bed, made herself a cup of tea and wandered to the balcony overlooking the pool and the mountains beyond.
    To her surprise, there was activity by the pool. She first recognized Barney Mulray, a salesman from Ohio whom she had met at a convention. Then she realized that the pool was full of Elegance salespeople.
    And at the far end was Jason McCready.
    To Cary’s growing dismay, her first thought was that he looked wonderful in a bathing suit. He was bronzed, lean and very well muscled. His chest was covered by a handsome and provocative mat of dark hair. And from the breadth of his shoulders to the clean, lean line of his hips to the powerful thighs below his black bathing suit, he was perfectly formed.
    Someone else thought so, too. There was a little young redhead, with a chest that didn’t quit, sitting near him. She was talking to him, and Jason was responding. But then Barney called to him across the pool, and Jason was just as quick to respond to Barney. Cary leaned a little over the