The Holiday Bride by Ginny Baird

riding a bicycle,
only softer... more curvy... and feminine. Heat warmed the back of his neck.
“Would I?” he asked, lost in the moment.
    “Judge me,” she repeated, dark eyelashes fanning wide.
    William drew a breath and counted to ten, telling himself
not to lose his head. Here he was with a beautiful woman beside a large comfy
bed on a wintery afternoon. And my
children are right downstairs , he reminded himself, swallowing hard. With
my mother and father! “No, absolutely not. Never.” He took a giant step
back, drawing the gifts in toward his chest. “I mean, never in a bad way.
Listen, Bridget, I’m a very fair-minded individual. Whatever other people
choose to do in their personal lives is their business, not mine. I mean, as
long as everyone’s a grown-up and agrees.”
    “Yes, that’s what I think too,” she said, taking a
step back of her own.
    “I think you’re right, and we’d better find a place to stash
these.”
    “Good,” she said with a nod.

 
    Downstairs on the living room sofa, Carmella snuggled
between her grandparents as her Grammy read her a storybook. Her Poppy sat on
her other side, reading the sports section of the newspaper.
    Emma turned the page and Carmella looked up with a pout.
“Why did they go upstairs?”
    “They needed some privacy, dear,” Emma said.
    “For what?”
    Grant chuckled. “Likely discussing North Pole secrets.”
    “But I want to hear how Santa got her down the chimney!”
    Grant glanced at Emma. “I’d be interested in hearing that
myself.”
    “Shush,” she told him.
    Carmella stared at Emma with big, brown eyes. “Bridget’s not
sick, is she Grammy?”
    “Oh no, dear.”
    “Dr. Mass says she’s healthy as a horse,” Grant said. Then
he added under his breath, “Not even pregnant.”
    Emma glared at him, but Carmella just said, “Darn!”
    Her grandparents exchanged glances, then looked at her.
    “I was hoping for twins,” the child explained.

 
    William entered Justin’s room to find him working at his
computer. Justin glanced in his dad’s direction, then closed a series of pop-up
boxes.
    “Justin, I’m going to need your help with something.”
    “Sure thing, Dad,” Justin said, still furiously clicking the
mouse. “Name it.”
    William scrutinized his son a beat, and then met the boy’s
gaze. “Do you know how to build a Web page?”
    “Piece of cake.”
    “Good, because I was thinking we could put up one of those
Internet postings.”
    “An advertisement?”
    “Well, no. Yes. Something like that. What’s the name of that
local site where you can get anything and everything?”
    “Dave’s List?”
    William nodded soundly. “That’s the one. Do you think
they’ve got a section for Lost and Found?”
    Justin smiled securely. “No worries, Dad. You can leave everything to me.”
    William sighed with relief. “That’s my boy. Now,” he asked,
“What do you need?”
    “We probably need a picture. We can use your digital
camera.”
    “Great thought. I’ll go and get it,” he said, turning away.
“Bridget, too.”
    “Uh, Dad?” Justin called after him. “I was just thinking...
Maybe it would help if Bridget modeled some of that stuff she brought with her?
You know, make her more recognizable?”
    William shot him a stern look and shook his head. “Don’t
think so, Justin.”

 
    A big-busted woman strode into Mitch’s real estate office
with a combative air. She slapped her purse on his desk and Mitch looked up at
the bleached blonde in a leopard print coat smacking her gum. She removed her
dark glasses to glare at him. “What’s the big idea?”
    “Bridget!” he said with surprise. “Ain’t you a sight for
sore eyes. So, you decide on that six mil mansion?”
    “No, you slimy cheat. What’s your excuse this time? Still
haven’t gotten over the fact that I dumped you for Roger?”
    He blinked at her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “My packages!” she cried with dismay.