where a lone man was kneeling in a fall of soft gray daylight. Broad of shoulder, humble in appearance and deeply masculine, the man worked with his head bent, carefully brushing sandpaper over a corner of something made of wood—his big body blocked any view of it.
Who is he? The question filled her mind and stilled all the worries and cautions in her heart. She forgot to take a step forward and simply stood rooted in place with the snowflakes sifting through the icy air like pure sugar, unable to take her eyes off the man. He was so big and rugged looking, he could have been made of steel.
Not that she was prone to noticing men or how they were built. Maybe it wasn’t him that held her attention at all, she rationalized. Perhaps what caught her attention was the unlikely contrast between the intimidating-looking linebacker of a man working so patiently at his craft. It seemed like a paradox.
“Mom?” Mia had retraced her steps to see what had captured her mother’s attention. “That’s not Uncle Ben. Who is it?”
“I don’t know. Probably one of his employees.”
Before she could move, the woodworker stiffened, as if he sensed her gaze. The breath left her lungs when he suddenly stood, all six feet of him, and stared back at her. He was pure silhouette, backlit by the faint light spilling from above. Caught between darkness and light he looked almost unreal, a shadowed form and nothing more.
Even before he took a step forward and moved into the light, Debra felt the power of his protective spirit; how silly was that? She wasn’t given to flights of fancy. She didn’t have the luxury of it as a hardworking single mom.
He gestured to the side of the building, not the front door, and Mia took off at a fast clip, galloping toward what appeared to be a side door. It swung open and there he was, the man in flesh and bone, with thick brown hair, dark eyes and a strong, ruggedly handsome face. He wore a plain navy blue thermal Henley and sawdust-covered jeans.
The look of him didn’t come as a surprise. If she were to describe him in a single word, it would be intimidating.
“Who are you?” Mia demanded. “I’m here to see my uncle Ben.”
“You must be Mia. I’m Jonah Fraser. And you—” Jonah lifted his gaze to hers. His dark eyes focused on her with frank scrutiny. “You’re Debra. The half sister.”
“Yes, although that’s a new title for me.”
He continued to study her stoically. He was just this side of frightening, Debra thought, because he felt so remote. His size alone was daunting, but he said nothing else. Apparently he was a man of few words.
Was he the withdrawn, quiet type? Or simply unfriendly? No, not unfriendly, she decided as he gestured with one big hand toward the door. He was very self-controlled.
“Come in,” he said. “Ben’s not—”
“He isn’t here?” Mia had a good view through the doorway as she skidded to a stop in front of Jonah Fraser. “But we came all this way and he promised. He said he’d have plans of what we’re gonna do next and everything.”
So, Ben was a no-show.
I feared this might happen, Debra bit her lip to keep the words to herself. Hadn’t she almost expected that Ben would let down Mia and then where would she be? Then again, maybe she was expecting the worst.
She stepped forward to lay her hand on her daughter’s slim shoulder. “We are about an hour late. I almost called first from the bed-and-breakfast, but Ben had left a message with the manager just to head straight over.”
“Did he give up waiting for us?” Mia asked, her voice trembling.
“No.” Kindness flickered in Jonah’s eyes, which were darkly inscrutable. “An emergency call came in and he had to go out.”
“Will he be back?” Mia asked, distressed.
“He promised.”
Debra didn’t want to notice the steady warmth in Jonah Fraser’s eyes or the subtle but unmistakable calm. Although he was physically intimidating, she felt intensely safe. And she couldn’t rightly say why. “Do you know if Ben will be long? We could head back to our room and wait for him.”
“No need.” He took a step, leading the way, and the strong line of his shoulders dipped slightly as he drew his right leg forward.
He was limping. And seriously. He was athletic enough that he compensated fairly well, but his wasn’t the kind of limp one might have with a sprained ankle. No, Jonah moved as if he’d been seriously wounded. She worked with a man who’d had a severe car accident and even years later, walked similarly. Had something like that happened to Jonah?
He held the door and closed it after them, stiffly polite. “Go through that door. You’ll be more comfortable in there.”
She imagined he’d feel more comfortable, too. She untied her scarf and snowflakes tumbled from the wool to the floor between them. Jonah said nothing, leaving silence to fill the space. She didn’t know what to say to this man who looked like he was made of steel on the inside, too. He certainly didn’t say much.
Which was a change from most men she knew. She realized she was staring at him a little too openly and her face heated. Really, what was wrong with her? Was this a sign she was losing it completely? She’d been under a lot of strain lately, but she wasn’t one to openly study a man, as if she were interested….
Really, she was not interested in another man who would only let her down. She turned to take Mia’s coat and realized the girl had wandered off toward a maze of machines in the middle of the shop, and some had sharp-looking blades. “Mia, don’t snoop. Come back here.”
“But, Mom, you gotta see this! It’s awesome.”
It was the wonder in Mia’s voice that drew Debra forward, to see over a huge angular and very technical-looking saw to a lone crib in the later stages of construction. Without stain or varnish, without polish or even all of its pieces, the crib was beautiful. It stood in the sift of light from a roof window directly overhead and looked like something out of a dream, diffused with light.
As Debra stepped closer, she saw the careful scrollwork and the intricate hand carving that was sheer perfection. She ran her fingertip over the smooth-as-glass texture, feeling awe sift through her like the snowflakes outside.
The time and patience it must take to do such beautiful work, she couldn’t imagine. It was delicate and fragile and storybook beautiful, but what really mystified her was the man who’d made it.
The reticent, brawny Jonah Fraser had done this.
Chapter Two
Jonah Fraser stirred the contents of the last hot-chocolate package into the coffee cup, watching the tiny white marshmallows swirl in the whirlpool created by the spoon. He held his emotions still as he kept Debra Cunningham Watson, of the publishing empire, in his peripheral vision.
Ben had talked about her and, since Ben was more than his employer but a close friend, he felt that he had some stake in this. Ben had been glad to learn the identity of his birth mother and that while she had sadly passed away, he had three other half siblings to get to know. Debra was the oldest of the Watson clan and
