you,” Alex muttered.
“Oooh,” exclaimed Jeremy. He’d marched into the center of the living room, and stared transfixed at the Christmas tree, winking and glowing in the corner.
Alex understood his son’s fascination. It was a great tree, and at its base a small train ran around and around a miniature Victorian town at the foot of a snowy mountain. The houses were lit, ice-skaters twirled around a silver lake, and even the small street lamps twinkled.
“Sorry about how I look, you caught me exercising,” Shannon said. She made no attempt at feminine fussing, and since she was flat-out beautiful with her healthy flush and sexy, mussed hair, it wasn’t necessary.
“You look fine,” Alex muttered.
In the soft glow from the Christmas tree her hair was a deep rich auburn, and he had a crazy urge to run his fingers through the silken strands, to discover if it was as soft as it looked. It occurred to him that she might not be a natural redhead since there wasn’t a freckle in sight on her peach complexion, but he shoved the thought away. Whether she was or wasn’t didn’t concern him. And he’d certainly never see the proof.
“Well…thanks for the plant,” Shannon said. She put it by the fireplace, smiling at Jeremy as he tore his gaze away from the tree. “This is so pretty. Did you pick it out all by yourself?”
“Uh-huh,” he said.
“That was nice of you. You got the best poinsettia I’ve ever seen.”
Jeremy’s smile was like sunshine, and Alex blinked. Where was his shy little boy? The grief-stricken, barely talking, rabbit-clutching four-year-old?
“Mr. Tibbles said to get that one.”
“You and Mr. Tibbles have good taste.” She glanced at Alex. “I don’t keep many treats around the house, but are lemon drops on the okay list?”
“They’re fine,” he agreed, still bemused.
Shannon took a crystal dish from the mantel and removed the lid before offering its contents to Jeremy. Soon his son was sucking on lemon sours and playing with the controls of the train gliding around the extravagant Christmas tree. Steam even came from the top of the engine when a button was pressed on the control panel. Jeremy seemed to enjoy that part especially, along with the train’s abrupt stops and starts.
Alex warned Jeremy to be careful, but Shannon seemed unconcerned that the expensive set might be in danger.
“It’s all right,” she said. “Would you like some soda?”
“We don’t want to be any trouble.”
“If you were trouble, I’d tell you.”
Undoubtedly she would. Shannon O’Rourke was direct, self-assured and definitely wouldn’t pussyfoot around. She was also the walking, talking embodiment of everything he’d avoided his entire life—an explosion of emotion and passion wrapped up in flame-colored hair and flashing eyes.
“Tell you what,” she said. “If you haven’t eaten dinner yet, we can order some pizza. I’m out of milk for Jeremy, but maybe they can bring some with the delivery.”
He wanted to say no. He even opened his mouth to say no, only one look at his son’s ecstatic face changed his mind. Jeremy loved pizza, but his mother had declared it was unhealthy for children, so they’d rarely eaten any. Come to think of it, he wasn’t sure why Kim had disapproved of restaurant and take-out food so much, but she had.
“That sounds good,” he agreed. “But it’s my treat.”
“Whatever. The phone’s over there with the phone book, so go ahead and order. I’m going upstairs to change.”
“Any preferences?”
“No anchovies, that’s all.” She glanced at Jeremy. He looked hopeful, and she tried to guess what he might be wishing his daddy would order. “How about one of those dessert pizzas, too? One with lots of sugar and stuff on top.” Jeremy’s face turned blissful and she winked at him.
Shannon climbed the staircase to her bedroom and willed her heart to stop beating so fast. She’d figured the post office was the last close contact she’d get with Alex McKenzie and his son, but now they were in her living room and her pulse was doing the Macarena.
She took a quick shower, then pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater. Her footsteps were muffled on the thickly carpeted stairs, so when she descended to the living room, she was able to observe Alex and his son without them being aware of her presence.
With a quiet sigh she sat on a step and watched.
The two of them were lying on their stomachs, side by side, gazing at the tree and the train set her decorator sister, Miranda, had arranged for her a few days after Thanksgiving. This year, Miranda had outdone herself, creating a Victorian holiday wonderland out of the living room.
“Choo, choo!” crowed Jeremy as the train chugged through the tunnel in the snowcapped mountain.
He was darling, yet it was Alex who drew her gaze the longest, his jeans pulled taut over long, strong legs and a tight rear end. He didn’t look like any college professor she’d ever studied with, or else she would have paid more attention in class. His rugged good looks had probably turned engineering into a very popular subject—with the female students, at least.
Shannon’s eyes drifted half-closed as she imagined what it would be like to be married to someone like Alex.
It was a great fantasy, but reality kept intruding. Alex had said his wife had loved baking and doing crafts and making Christmas special; he’d probably be shocked that she had her home professionally decorated every year and couldn’t bake a cookie to save her life. Even Shannon’s mother had declared defeat in teaching her eldest daughter how to cook.
The doorbell rang and she jumped up.
“That must be our pizza,” she said brightly.
They ate in front of the tree, sitting cross-legged and using the napkins provided by the delivery guy.
“Mommy didn’t let us eat pizza,” Jeremy said after a while, then looked even more worried than before.
“She didn’t?” It seemed odd, but there might have been reasons Shannon knew nothing about, like allergies or another problem.
“Uh-uh.” He glanced quickly at his father, then carefully put his crust down on a napkin. “I get afraid, ’cause I don’t r’member her so good anymore.”
Alex looked pained, and Shannon bit the inside of her lip. Jeremy had been so young when his mother died, it was inevitable his memories were fading.
She put her forefinger over Jeremy’s heart, the way her own mother used to do when her youngest sister had worried about forgetting their father.
“You’ll always remember her in here,” she said softly. “That’s the most important kind of remembering. Your mommy is always right here, so you don’t need to be afraid.”
The youngster seemed to think about it, then nodded, looking more cheerful. His father handed him a piece of dessert pizza and they ate in silence until Jeremy looked up, his expression brightening.
“Daddy, I bet if Shannon was my new mommy, we could eat pizza whenever we wanted.”
Shannon inhaled a crumb and choked. Between coughing, thumps on the back from Alex and her eyes tearing, the moment passed without either of them having to say anything.
Cripes.
How did you handle a remark like that?
“I think it’s time for us to go home,” Alex said when her windpipe had finally cleared. His face had become closed. “We’ve imposed long enough on Miss O’Rourke.”
“But, Daddy, we—”
“It’s