Colorado Christmas

Becky had been delighted by the first delivery. Then she’d read the card and discovered who’d sent them.

The certain knowledge that encouraging him would be disastrous for her career advancement made it easy to reject his overtures. Will O’Malley was Trouble.

She was about to turn down his invitation, when the dogs started to walk around them—in opposite directions. They strained against their leashes, forcing Becky against Will O’Malley’s body and tightening his arms around her.

“Oh!” she cried as their bodies touched intimately from chest to knee, courtesy of the dogs.

“This is nice,” he murmured and bent to kiss her. Startled, Becky turned her head to the side to avoid letting their mouths make contact. Then wished she hadn’t. The feel of his warm lips brushing her cheek had her wanting more. But this was madness. She leaned away from him as best she could. “Mr. O’Malley! Get your hands off me.”

“We’re not in court anymore, darlin’,” he drawled in a tone that was guaranteed to make any woman weak in the knees—her included. “So why don’t you call me Will?”

She pushed against his chest. “How about if I don’t? Now, get your hands off me,” she repeated in a low growl.

He looked pointedly at where her hands lay against his chest. “Seems like you’re the one who’s got her hands all over me. Mine are only around you because of the dogs.”

She glanced down to see that her fingers had curled into his shirtfront as though seeking greater contact.

“Oh!” She pulled them back abruptly.

“Don’t be frightened. I was enjoying myself, and judging by the flush on your pretty cheeks and that tiny pulse throbbing in your neck—” he grinned with mischievous intent and gazed into her eyes “—I do believe you were enjoying yourself, too.”

She was lost in the depths of his eyes. Chocolate-brown eyes…He was too smooth for words. Too dangerous, too damned attractive. She needed to take control. Control was what she thrived on. It gave meaning to her life—helped her cope in any situation.

Forcing strength back into her legs, she stood up to her full height. “Why…you arrogant…pest! How dare you assume such a thing. Now, get the dogs unraveled and let me go. I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t be seen being manhandled in the street by a…a delinquent.”

“So quit your job and come live with me. Then I can manhandle you all you want,” he said, as if her concerns about her reputation didn’t matter one iota to him.

Her cheeks burned with anger.

“Because that’s what you really want, isn’t it, darlin’? You want me to hold you…and touch you…and kiss every inch of your beautiful body….”

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. A moment ago, she’d wanted to throttle him. But in all honesty, what he was suggesting was exactly what she wanted him to do. Hadn’t she dreamed of it every night since she’d met him?

She gave herself a mental shake. What was she thinking? Letting him touch her, kiss her…A flutter of anticipation filled her at the notion of being seduced by Will O’Malley. He’d probably prove a very thorough—and satisfying—lover.

But he wasn’t for her. Absolutely not! As an official of the law, she had to maintain her reputation. It was part of the reason she’d become a judge. Judges were highly respected members of society, and she wanted respect more than anything in her life.

The humiliation of attending court with her father, holding him up because he was so drunk, was deeply imprinted in her psyche. Becky had been fifteen, vulnerable, angry and confused. But when she’d seen the judge sitting behind his bench and being called “Your Honor” by everyone present, Becky knew the career she wanted to pursue—a career that commanded respect. She’d hated being the outcast at school, the new girl wearing thrift-shop clothes because the family moved from town to town and was too destitute, because of her father’s gambling and drinking, to afford anything new. Tears sprang to her eyes at the memory.

HER TEARS SHOCKED WILL. Surely she didn’t feel threatened by his playful advances? He gave the dogs a sharp command and they unwound themselves and their prisoners. The judge took a step back and glanced at the crowd gathering on the sidewalk, and then at him. Her face was almost redder than her hair.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Her chin came up. “You didn’t scare me, Mr. O’Malley. I’m not frightened of anything. Least of all you.” She turned on her heel and stalked off down the sidewalk.

He gazed at her retreating back. She might have claimed nothing scared her, but Will was damned sure she was afraid of something.

ALTHOUGH SHE’D MARCHED off after their humiliating encounter, Becky’s legs weren’t as steady as she would’ve liked. The trip down unhappy-memory lane had rattled her, and she’d let down her guard. “Damn!” she said and swiped at her cheeks, hoping no one would notice the tears that refused to stop welling in her eyes.

She turned down her street, head low as she avoided other pedestrians. She’d felt like a complete spectacle there in the middle of Main Street being held by Will O’Malley for the entire world to see!

Nicolas wasn’t home—he was still at the hydrotherapy pool doing a session with his physical therapist. For once, she was home alone and could indulge in a bit of self-pity.

After lighting the fire, she poured a glass of pinot noir and curled up in a corner of the sofa, tucking her legs underneath her. The room was pleasantly furnished. She’d brought a few decorative pieces with her, but the quaint Victorian house was fully furnished. That meant Becky was able to rent out her renovated loft apartment in Denver for the six months they’d be in Spruce Lake. She’d bought it with part of her divorce settlement. The rest she’d invested in Nicolas’s college fund, although she’d have to dip into that to pay for the exclusive school for gifted children he’d be entering next fall when they returned to Denver.

The wine’s warmth seeped through her, calming her nerves. The sooner she got out of this town, where everyone knew everyone else—and their business!—the better. Whatever had possessed her to accept the job here?

The spectators today had brought back unwanted memories from her past. The only memories Becky cherished from that long-ago time were of spending every spare moment at Ben Solomon’s office learning about the law. The kindly lawyer had taken her under his wing and helped her apply for a scholarship to attend college and then law school on the East Coast—far away from her family. Sadly, Ben hadn’t lived to see her graduate.

Her first job was with a prestigious Atlanta law firm where she’d met Graham Marcus, one of the firm’s high-flying partners. Urbane and charming, he had a wide circle of friends. They’d worked on several cases together, dated occasionally and a few months later he’d asked her to marry him.

Flattered and desperate to have a family of her own, she’d agreed without seriously examining whether she loved him—or if, indeed, he really loved her. Marry in haste, repent at leisure. The proverb’s words had come back to haunt her.

Three months after their wedding, Becky was pregnant. Dreaming that at last she’d have the family life she craved—she failed to notice something amiss in their marriage. When she discovered Graham had a mistress, the betrayal was so devastating she’d nearly miscarried. Graham begged her forgiveness. He put their unborn son’s name on the waiting list for the same exclusive schools he’d attended and became the doting expectant father. But soon after Nicolas’s birth, it was apparent that all was not quite right with the baby. When they received the diagnosis that Nicolas suffered from cerebral palsy and might never walk, Graham’s interest in their son evaporated and he demanded Becky put him into permanent care.

Bewildered that he could instantly turn from loving their son to despising him, she’d packed her bags and left with Nicolas, determined her dear little boy would know only unconditional love and support.

She’d filed for divorce and custody of Nicolas—Graham contested neither—and she’d had no contact with her ex-husband since.

Another man had let her down. She swore that would never happen again. She’d been a fool to forgive Graham his affair. She would never forgive him for rejecting their son.

And she had no intention of opening her heart to pain ever again.

Becky sipped her wine, allowing its warm glow to spread through her. But the warmth reminded her of Will O’Malley and how good his arms had felt around her. How safe she’d felt in his embrace. I need to get out of this town, because he makes me yearn for things I can’t have.

She sipped more of the wine and thought, Now, there’s a man who’d head for the hills if he knew I had a physically challenged child.

Chapter Four

“Have you heard anything from your ladylove yet, dear?” Mrs. Carmichael asked as Will cleaned up after repainting her shop.

He dried the paintbrushes and stored them. “Nope,” he said. “But she’ll come around.”

He’d been doing odd jobs at the florist’s for the past few days in between fulfilling his community service obligations at the Twilight Years Home. In payment, Mrs. C. sent him off to the courthouse with a dozen red roses every day. But instead of being shown into the judge’s chambers, he’d had to leave them with the receptionist at the front desk. So far, he hadn’t received any acknowledgment of either the flowers or the notes requesting a date that he’d hidden among the blooms.

“Maybe the judge doesn’t like roses?” she suggested. “I could do some lovely spring bouquets.”

Will picked up a cloth and wiped down the counter in front of him. “You’re sweet, Mrs. C. One of Spruce Lake’s living treasures.”

She flapped a hand at him good-naturedly. “Get on with you, Will O’Malley. Like your dear papa, you’ve inherited the Irish blarney.”

“Nope, it’s true. Cross my heart.” He did so, then bent to kiss her goodbye. “Toodle loo, Mrs. C. I’m off to see the mayor and walk Miss P.’s boys. And don’t forget to call me if you need anything. Otherwise, I’ll have to put you into the Twilight Years.” He shook his finger at her.

“You’re so insolent,” she said with a laugh. “I always thought your mama was way too lenient with you. Good luck with the mayor. And don’t forget, you’re welcome to move into my upstairs apartment anytime, dear.”

“Thanks, Mrs. C. I’m so done with Luke whining I’m underfoot at the ranch.” He’d told her about the details of his latest conflicts with his oldest brother.

She shook her head, her voice full of compassion. “Ah, Luke. Like you, he has a heart of gold. Being the oldest of you boys, he takes on a lot of responsibility.”