spent the night in Alex Marrin’s tack house. Though she’d anticipated a storage shed, her room looked more like a quaint B & B than a barn. A beautiful field-stone fireplace dominated one wall of her bedroom, while the others were paneled with warm knotty pine. Across from the iron bed was a tiny galley kitchen and a whitewashed table and just outside the door was a pretty sitting area, decorated with old harnesses and riding prints and yellowed photos of very large horses.
“She doesn’t have wings,” said an unfamiliar voice.
Holly slowly opened her eyes. When her vision focused, she found two little faces staring at her from close range. One she recognized as Eric Marrin. The other, a gap-toothed, freckle-faced boy, observed her as if she were an interesting lab specimen, pickled in formaldehyde and floating in a jar.
“Can she fly?” he said, lisping slightly through his missing front teeth.
“Jeez, Kenny, she’s not that kind of angel!” Eric said. “She’s a Christmas angel. They’re different.”
“What’s wrong with her hair?” Kenny asked.
Holding back a smile, Holly sleepily pushed up on one elbow. She looked at Eric then Kenny. “Good morning.” Kenny jumped back from the bed, a blush staining his cheeks, but Eric happily plopped down on the patchwork coverlet.
“This is my friend, Kenny. He lives down the road. We go to school together.”
Holly ran her fingers through her tangled hair and yawned. Judging by the feeble light coming through the window, it was still well before eight. The boys were dressed in jackets, both carrying backpacks. She groaned softly. Though her bed had been wonderfully cozy, her night had been plagued with strange and disjointed dreams. Unbidden images of Alex Marrin had been punctuated with a recurring nightmare that had her endlessly untangling tinsel and searching for the single bad bulb in a mile-long string of lights.
Why did Alex Marrin fascinate her so? Until yesterday evening, she’d been ready to spend her life with Stephan! Yes, Alex was incredibly handsome. Perhaps it was the rugged, salt-of-the-earth image. Or maybe it was the wounded look she saw, deep in his eyes, the wariness that seemed to pervade his lean body whenever he looked at her. He seemed to exude excitement and a little bit of danger.
“Does she have a magic wand?” Kenny asked, regarding her from beneath a scruffy wool cap.
Eric rolled his eyes. “Angels don’t have magic wands. Fairy godmothers do. And wizards.”
Holly should have explained to the boys that “Christmas angel” had been a metaphorical reference, a way to explain her place in this whole scheme as granter of wishes. She could have just as easily called herself a Christmas genie. “Why don’t you just call me Holly,” she suggested, too sleepy to make sense of her new job.
“We brought you breakfast, Holly,” Eric said, retrieving a battered cookie sheet from a nearby table and setting it on the bed. “Dad says I’m in charge of feeding you. Cap’n Crunch, Tang and toast with grape jelly. After you’re finished we’ll show you around the farm. I’ve got my own pony and a pinball machine in my bedroom.”
“Here you are!”
Holly glanced up to find Alex Marrin looming in the doorway of her room. He was dressed much as he had been the previous night, in rugged work clothes and a faded canvas jacket. But his hair was still damp from a shower and he was freshly shaven. She scrambled to pull the covers up over the gaping neck of her camisole, then felt a flush of embarrassment warm her cheeks.
“You’re late for school,” Alex said to the boys. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”
“But Holly needs a tour,” Eric said. “We always give company a tour.”
A crooked smile touched Alex’s lips and he glanced at Holly. “She’s still half asleep.” Eric gave his father a pleading look. “I’ll show her around,” he finally replied, “when I get back. Now let’s move!”
The boys called out a quick goodbye, then rushed out. Alex’s gaze met hers for a long moment and she tried to read the thoughts behind the enigmatic blue eyes. “I’ll just be a few minutes. Enjoy your breakfast.” With that, he turned and followed the kids. With a soft moan, Holly stumbled out of bed, wrapped the quilt around her shoulders and crossed to the window, watching as they walked past the house to the driveway beyond.
Of course she was fascinated with him. He was the first man to wander into the general vicinity of her boudoir in nearly a year! And though Stephan had always taken his manly duties quite seriously, he’d never set her pulse racing the way Alex Marrin did. Perhaps it had been fate that had kept her from accepting Stephan’s proposal. Perhaps, deep down inside, she knew there was a man out there who could make her feel…Holly groped for the right word. Passion?
She leaned against the windowsill and pressed her nose to the cold glass. She had never considered herself a passionate woman, the kind of woman who could toss aside all her inhibitions and give herself over to a man’s touch. But then, maybe she hadn’t been touched in just the right way.
“And you think Alex Marrin is the man to do it?” Holly shook her head, then wandered back to the bed. Sure, there was a certain irresistible charm about him. The easy masculine grace of his walk, the casual way he wore his clothes and combed his hair with his fingers. Any woman would find that attractive.
But there was more, Holly mused. When she looked at Alex Marrin, unbidden and unfamiliar desire surged up inside of her, disturbing thoughts of soft moans and tangled limbs and overwhelming need. Her stomach fluttered, but Holly knew the sensation would never be satisfied with Tang and Cap’n Crunch.
“He’s a client,” she murmured to herself. Though that wasn’t entirely true, since the mysterious benefactor was the one paying her salary. Still, she’d be better off if she kept her distance. This was strictly professional! With a soft oath, she crossed back to the bed, picked up her cereal bowl and took a big bite.
“Ugggghhh!” The sweetness of the cereal made her gag and she spit it out, wiped her tongue with the paper napkin, then guzzled down the tart and barely dissolved Tang. The toast was just as bad, cold and overloaded with jelly. Holly dropped it back on the plate and wiped her hands. “At least I won’t have to worry about those fifteen holiday pounds.”
By the time a soft knock sounded on her door, nearly twenty minutes had passed. She’d dressed, restored some order to her hair and applied a quick bit of mascara and lipstick. Holly took one last look in the mirror then called out. Slowly Alex opened the door, but he ventured only a few steps inside. “You’re not ready,” he said, taking in her choice of wardrobe, the cashmere sweater set, the wool skirt and her water-stained leather pumps.
Holly glanced down at her clothes, then back up. “I’m sorry. This is all I brought. I thought I’d go out today and get some more casual clothes.”
“Those shoes won’t do.” Alex stalked out of the room and returned a few moments later with a pair of tall rubber boots. He dropped them at her feet. “Put those on.”
Holly glanced down at the high rubber boots, encrusted with who knows what and at least six or seven sizes too big. There were probably spiders lurking inside their dark depths. She crinkled her nose and shook her head. “Thank you, but I think I’d be more comfortable in my own shoes.”
He shrugged. “Suit yourself. We’ll start with the barns.” Alex stepped aside and motioned her out the
