And who sent you?”
“My name is Holly Bennett,” she replied, reaching into her purse for a business card. “See? All The Trimmings. We do professional decorating and event planning for the Christmas holidays. I was hired to give your son his Christmas wish. I’m to work for you through Christmas day.”
“Hired by whom?”
“I—I’m afraid I can’t say. My contract forbids it.”
“What is this? Charity? Or maybe some busybody’s idea of generosity?”
“No!” Holly said. “Not at all.” She reached in her coat pocket and took out Eric’s letter, then carefully unfolded it. “Maybe you should read this.”
Marrin quickly scanned the letter, then raked his hands through his hair and leaned back against a stall door. All his anger seemed to dissolve, his energy sapped and his shoulders slumped. “You must think I’m a terrible father,” he said, his voice cold.
“I—I don’t know you,” Holly replied, reaching out to touch his arm. The instant she grazed his skin, a frisson of electricity shot through her fingers. She snatched them away and shoved her hand into her pocket. “I’ve already been paid. If you send me away without completing my duties, I’ll have to return the money.”
He cursed softly, then grabbed her hand and pulled her along toward the door. Holly wasn’t sure whether to resist or go along with him. Was he going to toss her out on her ear? Or did she still have time to argue her case?
“Pa, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he muttered. “I’ve got some business to take care of with this angel.”
2
“I WANT HER TO STAY!”
Alex ground his teeth as he stared at his son standing on the other side of his bed. Eric, dressed in his cowboy pajamas, had folded his arms over his chest, set his chin intractably and refused to meet Alex’s eyes. He used to see Renee in his son, in the dark eyes and wide smile. But more and more, he was starting to see himself, especially in Eric’s stubborn nature. “I know I’ve made some mistakes since your mother left and, I promise, I’ll try to make things better. We don’t need this lady to give us a nice Christmas.”
“She’s not a lady,” Eric said with a pout. “She’s an angel. My angel.”
Alex sat down on the edge of the bed and drew back the covers. “Her name is Holly Bennett. She gave me her business card. When was the last time you heard of an angel who had a business card?”
“It could happen,” Eric said defensively. “Besides, her name doesn’t make a difference. It’s what she can do that counts.”
“What can she do that I can’t?” Alex asked. “I can put up a Christmas tree and tack up some garland.” He patted the mattress and Eric reluctantly crawled beneath the covers.
“But you can’t bake cookies and make ornaments and—and—the last time Gramps made turkey it tasted like old shoes!” He slouched down and pulled the covers up to his chin. “If you haven’t noticed, Dad, she’s really, really pretty. Like supermodel pretty. And she smells good, too. She’s mine and I want to keep her!”
Alex didn’t need to be reminded of the obvious. If she hadn’t introduced herself as a mortal being, he might have believed Holly Bennett truly was heaven sent. She had the face of an angel, a wide, sensual mouth and bright green eyes ringed with thick lashes. Her wavy blond hair had shimmered in the soft light of the barn, creating a luminous halo around her head and accentuating her high cheekbones and perfectly straight nose.
No, that fact didn’t get past him. Nor did his reaction to her beauty—sudden and stirring, almost overwhelming his senses. Over the past two years he’d managed to ignore almost every woman he’d come in contact with, not that there had been many. Running a horse breeding operation didn’t put him in the path of the opposite sex very often.
He’d ignored social invitations and community events, secluding himself on the farm day and night and losing himself in his work. The last woman he’d touched was Eric’s teacher, Miss Green, and that was a benign handshake at the parent-teacher conferences. Never mind that Miss Green was fifty-seven years old and smelled of chalk dust and rose water.
But Holly Bennett wasn’t a spinster schoolteacher and she was hard to ignore. His fingers tingled as he remembered touching her, wrapping her delicate hand in his as he dragged her out of the barn. She was waiting downstairs at this very moment, waiting for him to decide her fate, and his mind was already starting to conjure excuses to touch her again.
“She could stay in the guest room,” Eric suggested.
Alex leveled a perturbed look at his son. “I’m not allowing a perfect stranger to—”
“Angel,” Eric corrected.
“All right, a perfect angel, to stay in our house.”
“Then she can stay in the tack house. No one’s stayed there since Gramps moved back into the house. He thinks she’s pretty and nice.”
“How do you know?” Alex said, raising an eyebrow.
“I can just tell.” His son set his mouth in a stubborn straight line.
Alex covered his eyes with his hands and moaned. If he sent Holly Bennett packing, Eric would never forgive him. And he wouldn’t hear the end of it from his father. Aw, hell, maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea having her around. He hated stringing lights on the tree. The smell of evergreen made him sneeze. And he was more comfortable with curry combs than cookie cutters.
Besides, Christmas had always reminded him of Renee. Every ornament, every decoration brought back memories of their time together, time when they’d been a happy family with a bright future. The week after she’d left, he’d thrown out every reminder of Christmas she’d brought into the house, vowing to discard anything that brought thoughts of her betrayal.
But here was a chance to begin anew, to create Christmas traditions only he and Eric shared. Sure, Holly the Angel would be around, but she was nothing more than an employee, a helping hand during a busy season. And he was curious to learn who was paying her salary, a secret he might learn given time. “All right,” Alex said. “She has three days to prove herself and if everything’s going all right, she can stay.”
“Then we’re not going skiing in Colorado?”
He sent his son a grudging smile. “No, we’re not going to Colorado. But you’re going to have to deal with her. I’m not going take care of her the same way I have to take care of Thurston and the horses. She’s your angel.”
Eric hit him full force against the chest, throwing himself at Alex and wrapping his arms around his father’s neck. The boy gave him an excruciating hug and beamed up at him. “Thanks, Dad. Can I go tell her?”
Alex ruffled Eric’s pale hair, a flood of parental love warming his blood, then kissed his son on the cheek. It took so little to make Eric happy. How could he think of refusing him even a bit of joy? “Crawl back under the covers and I’ll tuck you in. Then I’ll go down and tell your angel.”
Eric gave him another quick
