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  Instead, they sat at the kitchen table, drinking spiced cider and cocoa, stringing popcorn and cranberries on silk medical thread—the same kind she’d used to stitch up Chance’s head.

  Chance was wielding the needle, and the girls had formed an assembly line. They were in charge of handing him the food stuff, then moving the goodies along the thread like red and white beads on a gaudy necklace.

  Kelly was supervising and unrolling the silk line. And trying her best to keep up with the jumble of confusing, conflicting emotions that raced through her as she watched her daughters respond to Chance’s attention.

  “I saw that,” Chance said when Jessica poked a piece of popcorn into her mouth. The little girl giggled.

  He scooped up a handful and tossed it in the air toward each girl’s mouth. “Open up.”

  Like fish bobbing for food at the surface of an aquarium tank, they both tilted their heads back, trying to catch the fragrant kernels in their mouths. Popcorn littered the floor like confetti. Kelly’s sense of organization objected and she wanted to reach over and sweep it up, but Scout got into the game, lapping up the stray pieces of corn. Kelly made herself relax and enjoy the silliness of the whole thing.

  They strung and ate and sipped and laughed. It was the most fun she’d had in ages.

  When Chance deemed the garland plenty long enough to wind around the tree, he coiled it up, grabbed Kelly’s hand and tugged her into the living room, leaving Jessica and Kimberly in the kitchen to make snowflakes. Kelly didn’t know whether to laugh or object to his steamroller tactics.

  “Who made you the boss of decorating?” she asked.

  “I did.” He grinned at her, clearly unrepentant and in his element. “Lights first.”

  The tree was so tall he had to use a ladder for the uppermost branches. “As your doctor, I’d like to point out yet again that you shouldn’t be exerting yourself.”

  “This isn’t exertion. It’s tradition.”

  “Tradition can wait a few days. We don’t have to decorate the tree tonight.”

  He gazed down at her from his perch. “Now I ask you. Who can leave an undecorated tree sitting in the living room all bare and forlorn-looking?”

  “A man with a concussion?” she offered, hiding her smile. It was tough to try to pull rank when you couldn’t keep a straight face. Though, she had to admit, in terms of doctoring, their rank was pretty much equal.

  “I don’t have a concussion. The critical time has passed and you know it. Get in the spirit, woman.”

  “Fine. But if you fall off that ladder, I’m not stitching you up.”

  “Bet you would.”

  She sighed. Of course she would. She was a doctor. It was her job. Never mind that when she’d seen Chance lying unconscious yesterday, even for only a few seconds, her reaction had been as a woman first and doctor second.

  As he looped colored lights around the upper branches of the tree, Kelly helped out by holding the box and feeding more wire as he needed it. The ladder didn’t look all that stable, and she had an urge to put a hand on his leg to steady him.

  She resisted, knowing that if she touched him, even innocently, she’d want to do a whole lot more. The man was a god, six feet of fantasy-evoking masculinity. Jeans hugged his hips and long legs. He’d taken off his button-front shirt and wore a skin-tight thermal one tucked into the waistband of those sexy jeans. Muscles rippled beneath the heavy cotton material.

  “Woolgathering, Hollywood?”

  Her gaze snapped to his. That devilish smile sent her heart rate up another notch.

  “I’d like to be gathering wool—and burrowing in it. I still feel like an icicle.” She unrolled more of the lights and told herself to pay attention to the job at hand and stop drooling over her landlord.

  “Why don’t you go on over by the fire and thaw out?”

  “We’ve been inside an hour. You’d think I’d be a puddle by now.”

  He raised a brow, took a step down the ladder. “Maybe I can do something about that.”

  She backed up as far as the string of lights would allow—which wasn’t nearly far enough to avoid the deliberate brush of his body when he reached the bottom of the ladder.

  “Don’t start,” she warned.

  He grinned, moved impossibly closer. She could smell pine sap and crisp winter air on his skin, mingled with the sweet tangy scent of cider on his breath.

  Good Lord, was he going to kiss her?

  She wouldn’t put it past him to be holding a sprig of mistletoe over her head. The man was devious. And so sexy every vital sign in her body had gone haywire.

  His gaze slipped to her mouth. Just when she thought she’d die if he didn’t kiss her, he stepped aside.

  “I was talking about adding a log to the fire,” he said. “What did you think I meant?”

  He knew very well what she thought—that he was going to warm her and turn her into a puddle using his body and kisses. And darn it all, she ought to stop this right now, take herself out of the room and away from temptation, but she was still holding the box of lights, and the other end of the string was attached to the tree.

  Plucking at the neck of her sweater, she realized that she wasn’t cold anymore. In fact, she was burning up.

  She didn’t bother to tell him so. The man was too sure of himself for his own good. It wouldn’t do to feed that ego. But oh, she wanted to.

  And knew without a doubt that it would be a very bad idea. He was her landlord. He was a small-town doctor entrenched in this wonderful town.

  She had a medical practice in California waiting for her return. And she didn’t want to give her daughters the wrong impression.

  She had no idea how they felt about her seeing another man. They might feel threatened by such a relationship, see it as a betrayal of their father. Or they might begin to hope…hope for a complete family.

  In either case, she would be adding to the burdens they already shouldered, burdens that neither little girl would discuss. Jessica chattered constantly, but was flippant or changed the subject when Kelly tried to bring up the past, to probe for feelings. Kimberly had simply gone inside herself.

  And until she found a way to heal her children, Kelly couldn’t even think about herself. Chance brought out the womanly needs in her that had been long neglected, but she couldn’t give in to those needs.

  Too bad that sensible decision didn’t stop the yearning.

  Chance took the dangling string of lights from her hands, startling her. “Deep thoughts?”

  “I suppose.”

  “I’ve been told I’m a very good listener.”

  Holding the box, she followed him as he circled the tree arranging lights on the branches. “Some of those thoughts were about you.” Oh, damn. She hadn’t meant to blurt that.

  He paused and she nearly plowed into his back. “Now that’s the kind of thing I like to hear.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, ace.”

  He sighed and resumed his task. “It’s Christmastime. Give a guy a break.”

  “You’re such a flirt.”

  He went still again, pinned her with a look that made her squirm. “I can be quite serious.”

  “Don’t, okay?”

  He watched her, patiently, curiously. Then he glanced toward the kitchen door where the kids were safely out of earshot.

  “Tell me something.”

  “What?”

  “Did you love him?”

  Kelly glanced down at the box of lights in her hands, cold now, with only a hint of the color that would glisten once they were plugged in. “Yes, I did. And I loved Candy, too. I don’t know which betrayal hurt worse.”

  “I assume the friendship ended?”

  Nodding, she handed him the last of the lights then set the box aside. “The girls don’t understand, and I don’t know how to explain it to them.”

  “Time and distance will help.”

  “But what about when I go back?”

  He reached out
and gently ran the back of his fingers over her cheek. She should have moved away, but the touch felt too good. She wanted to lean into him.

  “Don’t borrow trouble before it finds you,” he said softly.

  “That’s just the problem. Trouble found us months ago. Maybe even years. And I was too damned blind and wrapped up in my work to notice.”

  “That was before. This is now. Take each day as it comes.”

  “Each day I feel more like a failure.” The admission slipped out, stunning her, trapping her breath in her lungs. Her eyes stung like alcohol poured on a raw wound, but she wouldn’t give in. Couldn’t. She hadn’t cried for herself in six months. She’d cried for her kids, but not herself. If she started now, she might never stop.

  Chance bent his knees, bringing his face level with hers. “Look here, Hollywood.”

  With his hands on her shoulders, his eyes in her direct line of sight, she could do little else.

  “You have not failed. It’s not your fault that your husband didn’t treasure what he had. It’s not your fault that he died or that your little girl is temporarily trapped in silence.”

  “How do you know? You don’t know me. You don’t know what I was like.”

  “I want to.”

  She looked into his blue eyes, saw the seriousness, and the desire. He’d never hidden his emotions from her. But he hadn’t pushed, either. This was a man a woman could trust. But she wasn’t the woman for him.

  “You’re asking for more than I can give.”

  “Can give? Or want to give?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “I think it does.”

  She stepped back. “Don’t make me regret moving in here.” But she already did regret it. For selfish reasons. Because he made her yearn for more, and that scared her, made her want to run, made it difficult to remember her purpose. Her children.

  She couldn’t, however, regret the change that was taking place in her daughters.

  She was caught in a quandary of conflict. The battle between the woman in her and the mother was so fierce it made her dizzy.

  “Who takes care of you, Doc?” he asked quietly.

  The question blindsided her, sent her emotions spinning even higher. Her throat ached and she had no idea why. “What are you talking about?”

  “You know what I’m talking about. You’ve dedicated your life to taking care of other people, doctoring. Then you come here alone, isolating yourself, shouldering the sole responsibility for your family. Who’s there for you?”

  “I don’t need anyone.”

  “Everyone needs someone.” He brushed a strand of hair off her cheek. “Someone to talk to, to share a hug. Someone to help with the dishes or cook a meal. Someone to rub your feet after a long day or just hold you when you lose a patient or get overwhelmed. I’m going to take a wild guess that your husband didn’t do that for you.”

  Before she could think better of it, she shook her head, admitting he was right on target.

  “Well, let me tell you something. Out here in Montana, our mamas raise us to be cowboys and gentlemen. Taking care is part of us just like breathing.”

  “Chance—”

  He put a finger over her lips. “No sense arguing. You can’t ask a horse to change his coat. It’s my nature to help out a friend in need.”

  “A friend.”

  “That’s what we are to each other, aren’t we?”

  “I’d like to think so.”

  He smiled. “I know, it’s difficult with all the other stuff that gets tangled up, too. You’re probably finding it pretty hard to resist my charms.”

  He was so absurdly serious she burst out laughing. “You’re so full of it, Hammond.”

  He stepped back and nodded. “Got you to laugh, though, didn’t I?”

  “You’re sneaky.”

  “No.” He paused, held her with his gaze. “I’m damned good.”

  Kelly’s laughter ended on a groan of longing so shockingly blatant her face went red with embarrassment.

  She closed her eyes. It had been too long since she’d had sex. That was all there was to it. Otherwise she wouldn’t be putting a sexual connotation on every little thing he said.

  Even though she imagined he had meant it in a sexual way, the maddening man would deny it for sure.

  “Let’s go see if the kids have those ornaments cut out,” he said as though the sexual tension between them was a figment of her imagination.

  She could’ve cheerfully hit him. He sashayed out of the room with a loose-hipped stride that made her heart pump and butterflies take wing in her stomach. He knew damned well that he’d gotten to her.

  And because she was feeling petulant, she stuck her tongue out at his retreating back. The impulsive action astonished her so much she laughed. My Lord, Kelly Anderson, child prodigy who’d graduated from college at eighteen, had just done something totally spontaneous and ridiculous.

  Chance glanced over his shoulder, brows raised in inquiry. She shook her head and motioned him into the kitchen. She didn’t think he’d appreciate the irony.

  Chapter Five

  Jessica and Kimberly had crayons, construction paper and glitter scattered all over the kitchen table. Jessica was still hard at work on the snowflakes, but Kimmy had drawn a little girl and cut it out like a paper doll.

  “Hey, this is really good,” Chance said, examining the drawing. “This girl looks just like you. Is it?”

  Kimmy nodded and Chance brushed a hand lightly over her blond hair, bringing another lump to Kelly’s throat. He was a man who touched often, without thought or reciprocal expectations.

  “I didn’t know you were an artist. We’ll have to hang this right at the front of the tree. In fact, I think we should all have our own ornament. Here.” He handed Jessica and Kelly each a crayon. “Everybody has to draw themselves.”

  “I can’t draw,” Kelly said.

  “Sure you can. Kimmy will help if you get stuck.”

  “I don’t need help,” Jessica said indignantly, just in case he was suggesting that her artistic talents weren’t equal to her little sister’s.

  “I can see that. You did a fine job on the snowflakes. Two talented girls among us. It’s your mom I’m worried about.”

  He prodded and shamed until Kelly was forced to join in. Then he bent his head to his own task, sketching and shading, reaching for different-colored crayons, concentrating as though he was an architect drawing blueprints. Or the son of a famous artist.

  Kelly could hardly make any headway with her own assignment because she kept looking over at what he was doing.

  “No fair copying.”

  “I’m not copying.” But she’d like to. Her own drawing attempt was pitiful and embarrassing.

  Chance’s was practically a portrait. He’d drawn the outline of a cowboy complete with boots and hat, carefully cut it out, then sketched a stethoscope around the neck, instead of the traditional bandanna.

  What did she expect? The man had a healthy dose of creativity in his genes. She, on the other hand, had been carving cadavers when other kids her age were in art class. Still, how difficult was it to make an ornament?

  Jessica had drawn herself holding a dog with pointy ears. Kimmy noticed and added a pet to her own ornament—a wild-eyed cat with stringy whiskers and a tail as fat as its body.

  Kelly had only gotten as far as cutting out the female image. And a pitiful one at that. She could cut open a human body and stitch it back up with skill that hardly left a scar—an artistic feat she was quite proud of—but she couldn’t draw a decent paper doll.

  “Let’s see,” Chance said. He gazed at Jessica’s girl ornament and nodded. “Oh, good. You got Scout in there. He’d have had his feelings hurt if we didn’t include him. And Kimmy’s got—” he studied the drawing “—Miss Lucille? Naw, that old cat’s too prissy. I bet this one’s Fluff. I can tell by the bushy tail.”

  A pleased expression replaced the usual emptiness and unresponsiveness of
Kimmy’s features, making Kelly’s heart ache in both joy and sorrow.

  How much emotion was trapped inside her daughter? How many times had she been misunderstood because her words were unable to find a voice? The frustration of not being able to communicate was more than likely harder on Kimmy than on the rest of them.

  Kelly couldn’t imagine how her little girl felt. Alone? Scared?

  Reaching over, she scooped Kimmy off the chair and held her daughter close to her heart. She smelled of crayons and glue and baby shampoo. Kelly just wanted to hug her into talking, wanted to kiss it and make it better.

  Like her own mother had done countless times.

  A wave of sadness swept her, so strong she nearly wept with it. Oh, God, she longed for her mom.

  The sadness sneaked up on her at odd moments, an emptiness that would never go away. Oh, it would ease, tuck itself away beneath the trials of everyday living, but it would always be there ready to surface when a smell or a word or a touch sparked a memory. Like now.

  Mom had always known how to make things better. Even though Kelly was the doctor in the family, she’d still called her mother for advice. She longed to pick up the phone now, to hear her mother’s sweet voice, to rest in the absolute confidence she’d always felt when her mother told her everything would be all right.

  Tell me how to fix my little girl, Mom. Tell me it’ll be all right.

  Kimberly squirmed and Kelly realized she was squeezing her daughter too hard. She loosened her hold and Kimmy slid off her lap, her little tennis shoes making a soft plopping noise on the hardwood floor.

  What kind of a mother was she? She hadn’t held on hard enough when she should have, hadn’t protected them. And now, she had an idea she was holding on too hard.

  “Ready, Kel?” Chance said, standing with Jessica and Kimberly close by his side. His gaze was filled with compassion…and something else. He had no way of knowing what she was thinking, but he was a man who noticed nuances. Sometimes that was all a doctor had to go on—mannerisms, the way patients acted rather than what they said.

  She wasn’t his patient. But he was a perceptive man.

  A protective man.