All a Cowboy Wants for Christmas. Judith Stacy

the image from his mind. If he didn’t get Marlee out of his head he’d never get any work done.

      Carson pulled on his Stetson and left his office. He headed down the boardwalk anxious to put some distance between himself and his office—and the vision of Marlee across the desk from him. He needed to center his thoughts on the weaving mill he was trying to bring to town, and he wouldn’t likely get things handled if he couldn’t stop wondering what Marlee would look like naked.

      “Mr. Tate? Mr. Tate?” someone called.

      He paused and looked around the busy boardwalk, then spotted Audrey Meade heading toward him. She was a pretty woman with a good head on her shoulders. Carson knew Chord was courting her and, at that moment, it hit him that Chord was a fool for not asking her to marry him yet.

      “I just wanted to thank you for what you’ve done.” Audrey gave him a pleasant smile, and like most everyone else in Harmony, hurried away, not wanting to keep him from his business.

      Carson had no idea what she was talking about and was in no mood to ask, so he started walking again. As he passed Goodwin’s Dry Goods, a flash of blue caught his eye. Blue, deep blue, like the dress Marlee had on in his office. He stopped and, sure enough, spotted her at the far end of the empty alley.

      Anger rose in him, a welcome relief from the other emotions raging within him. What was the matter with her? Why was she alone in the alley? Didn’t she know it was dangerous?

      Carson stalked toward her ready to chastise her for being so foolish, then stopped still in his tracks. Her back was to him and her shoulders shook. She was crying.

      Fear and anger rocked him with a strength he’d never experienced. Had someone hurt her? Carson was overwhelmed with the need to protect her, and kill anyone who’d dare to lay a finger on her. He closed the distance between them in three long strikes, grasped her arm and whirled her to face him. Tears poured down her cheeks and her eyes were red and puffy.

      “Get away from me!” she said, and tried to yank her arm from his grasp.

      Carson held her firmly. “Are you hurt? Did somebody hurt you?”

      She looked up at him as if he’d lost his senses.

      “No!”

      “Then why are you crying?” he asked.

      “Because!”

      That didn’t exactly answer his question, but he was relieved no one had attacked her. Still, she kept crying and Carson didn’t know anything else to say so he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her against his chest. Marlee tried to jerk away, but he held on and she came full against him, sobbing into his shirt.

      When her tears finally stopped she eased away. Carson took his handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her.

      “Now,” he said softly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

      “Nothing,” she told him, dapping at her eyes with the handkerchief. Then she sniffed again and said, “Everything.”

      Carson was overcome with the need to fix what was wrong—whatever it might be. He had to make things better, no matter what it took. Then it hit him that he might be the problem; it didn’t make him feel very good about himself.

      “Is this because I wouldn’t donate the money you asked for?” he asked.

      Marlee sniffed and drew herself up. “You are certainly entitled to spend your money as you see fit, Mr. Tate.”

      She’d responded to his question but hadn’t really given him an answer. Carson knew something else was going on. He thought back to when she’d been in his office, how she’d stormed out in a huff. She’d seemed to accept his decision, though certainly it hadn’t pleased her. Nothing else had happened—

      “Audrey,” he said, and managed not to utter a curse. “I saw her. She thanked me for something. Does she think I agreed to donate the money?”

      “Apparently the ladies of Harmony had a great deal of confidence in my fundraising ability,” she said, and looked away. “Mrs. Tuttle booked the Laughlin Singers on the assumption I could secure your donation.”

      Maybe he should have told her.

      The thought sprang into Carson’s mind and for a long moment he considered telling her the reason he’d refused to make the donation.

      He’d never told anyone in Harmony why he lived his life the way he did, but at this moment telling Marlee seemed like the right thing to do.

      Still, Carson couldn’t bring himself to say the words, to tell her what had happened all those years ago. And besides, it wouldn’t change the problem she faced.

      He drew in a heavy breath and said, “I’ll donate the money you need.”

      “No.”

      He looked down at her, not sure she’d heard him correctly.

      “I said I would donate the money—”

      “No,” she said again. Marlee straightened her shoulders and faced him squarely. “I don’t want your pity—and that’s exactly what your offer is about. I’ve spent my life handling my own problems and I will continue to do so.”

      “This isn’t a good time to let your pride get in your way,” Carson said gently.

      That seemed to fire her up again, which was far better than seeing her cry.

      “I will raise that money somehow—without your help,” she told him.

      Marlee glared up at him, defiance etched in the tight line of her mouth and the hard look in her eyes, and all Carson could think was that he wanted to kiss her.

      Then she seemed to crumble again and took a step back.

      “Immediately after Christmas, I’m leaving Harmony. I’m going back to Philadelphia,” Marlee said, then hurried toward Main Street.

      Carson watched her walk away and a heaviness crashed down on him.

      She was leaving.

      And he was falling in love with her.