Christmas Baby: A Baby Under the Tree / A Baby For Christmas / Her Christmas Hero

Did he want to actually date her? And if so, how did she feel about that?

Long-distance relationships didn’t usually work out. Not that Jillian was ready for anything like that to develop between them. After all, she’d made one mistake by believing a man to be honorable when he wasn’t. She certainly didn’t want to make another one by acting too soon.

Still, spending time with Shane was making her realize that she hadn’t been permanently damaged by her husband’s infidelity and that the right man would come along someday.

Would that man be Shane Hollister?

It was impossible to know after only two evenings together. Besides, she had the baby to consider. So she might as well feel him out about that.

“How about you?” she asked. “Do you have any children?”

The spark in his eyes dimmed, and he seemed to tense. For several long, drawn-out heartbeats, he held his tongue, and she felt compelled to apologize, to sympathize—to do or say something, although she didn’t have a clue what.

Finally, he answered, “No, I don’t.”

Something in his tone, in his demeanor, made her wonder if he liked it that way. If so, how would he react when she finally told him about the baby? Would he be happy? Uneasy? Angry?

Would he worry about being responsible—financially or otherwise—for a child he’d never intended to have?

As curious as she was, as much as his answers mattered, she didn’t push for more. She wasn’t ready for a full-on discussion about babies or kids right now, so she opted to change the subject.

“You mentioned that you used to work in Houston. What did you do?”

He reached for his goblet of water, then took a drink. Finally he said, “I worked for the Houston Police Department, first as a patrolman, then as a detective.”

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say—that he’d been in sales, she supposed. Or that he’d had a dead-end job of some kind. But a police officer?

Not only did that surprise her, it made her feel a whole lot better about him and the man he was.

“Why did you quit?” she asked.

He grew quiet again, as if she’d unearthed something he didn’t want to talk about. Then he shrugged. “It’s complicated.”

Which meant what? That she wasn’t going to get any more out of him than that?

Who was Shane Hollister?

Before she could quiz him further, the waiter brought their food, lasagna for him and pasta primavera for her, creating a momentary lull in the conversation.

While Shane picked up his fork, Jillian asked again, this time point blank, “Why did you leave the police force?”

Shane dug into his lasagna and took a bite, hoping Jillian would get the hint that he didn’t want to talk in detail about the past. There were too many mitigating factors that had caused him to leave the force, too much other stuff to reveal. And no matter how much he enjoyed her company, he wasn’t ready to spill his guts yet. And he wasn’t sure he’d ever be.

“Like I told you,” he said, “it’s complicated.”

She waited a beat, yet didn’t let up on him. “Okay, then tell me about yourself. Where were you born? What kind of childhood did you have?”

He supposed he couldn’t blame her for being curious. He had a lot of questions for her, too.

“There’s not much to tell,” he said. “I was born in Houston and grew up as the youngest of three boys and two girls in a big, close-knit family.”

She leaned forward, as if he’d told her something interesting. “It’s nice that you have a big family.”

He’d always thought so. He watched her spear a piece of broccoli with her fork. The candlelight glistened on the platinum strands of her hair, making her appear radiant and almost…angelic.

Unaware of his gaze, she looked up and smiled. “I never knew my father, so it was only my mom and me at first. After my mother died, I moved in with my grandparents. I’m afraid it’s just Gram and me now.”

Marcia had been an only child, too, which had made it nearly impossible for her to relate to a big, rambunctious family like the Hollisters.

Shane had a feeling Jillian would feel the same way if she ever met them. And that was just one more reason a relationship with her wouldn’t work out.

But tell that to his hormones. Damn, she was a beautiful woman, even if she was mortal and prone to imperfections.

So why couldn’t he spot any of them?

As she lifted her water goblet, brought it to her lips and swallowed, he followed the simple movement as it moved down her throat.

When he’d kissed her there that night, running his tongue along her neck and throat, she’d come alive in his arms.

Had the memory ingrained itself in her mind, too?

He kept reminding himself that they really weren’t suited, but that didn’t seem to matter right now.

“So what was it like growing up as one of five kids?” she asked, as if she had no idea he’d been ogling her from across the table.

“It was okay, I guess.” He’d idolized his older siblings until his teenage years, when he’d found them bossy and a real pain in the ass. But in retrospect, he realized they’d just been looking out for him, even if they’d sometimes overstepped their boundaries.

He’d actually thought his family had been the typical, all-American variety until he married Marcia. She’d been annoyed by them and couldn’t understand the closeness they’d shared. In fact, she’d thought they were intrusive and out of line most of the time.

It had made life pretty miserable for everyone, not just her and Shane.

But it had been more than his family that had bothered her. She’d hated his job, too.

When Shane was promoted to detective, his marriage seemed to get better because he’d received a pay increase and was no longer patrolling the city streets. He’d also known better than to vent about the ugliness that he saw nearly every day. Instead, he’d stretched the truth and made his job sound safe and routine.

But Marcia hadn’t bought it. When she’d accused him of cheating on her with his partner—something he hadn’t done—he’d finally thrown in the towel.

Shane wondered what Jillian would say if she knew how many of his family members worked in one law enforcement field or another. Or if he told her that he’d wanted to be a cop ever since he could remember and that he’d once believed he’d been born to wear a badge.

Stuff like that hadn’t mattered to Marcia. She’d hated everything about his line of work, which was why she’d eventually been the one to cheat, something he’d learned after the fact.

“You’re not very forthcoming,” Jillian said.

He hadn’t meant to clam up completely. “I’m sorry. It’s just that my ex-wife didn’t like my family or my job. So when you start asking me about either one of them, I get a little defensive and cryptic. It’s an old habit, I guess.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

To hear what? That he had old baggage and habits?