Free Our First Christmas by Lisa Jackson Page A

response shot from him like a bullet. Of all the people she could have turned to, Marisa had come to him. “No cabs.” She opened her mouth to argue as he reached for his phone. “I will.” He called his secretary, told her he was leaving for the day, maybe two. “Let’s go.”
    She sat straighter. “I need to swing by my apartment and grab a bag?”
    â€œSure. Let’s go.”
    This time as he guided her out of the office, he did put his hand in the small of her back. It felt good to touch her, and he remembered the softness of her skin when he’d stroked his palm over her flat belly that night in Mexico.
    â€œDid you drop the presents off in my hospital room?” she asked.
    It pleased him she’d noticed. “A shame to have them land in evidence over the holidays after seeing all the trouble you went to in order to get them.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œI’d have been pretty excited to get a truck like that when I was seven.”
    â€œIt’s the bells and whistles. It’s been my observation that males like loud and noisy toys.”
    He pushed the elevator button. “We do like our toys.”
    She looked at him with genuine curiosity. “Why is that?”
    He chuckled. “I suppose we don’t quite grow up.”
    Marisa nodded as if she agreed.
    Outside, the air was cool enough to send Marisa burrowing deeper into her coat. He opened the passenger side door of his car, and she climbed into the seat. As he crossed to his side of the car, he saw her relax as if she’d arrived home. She likely wasn’t aware of the move, but he was. She felt safe with him. Knowing that nearly coaxed a smile.
    The drive to her house took less than fifteen minutes, and she packed an overnight bag within minutes.
    â€œWhy haven’t you unpacked?” he asked, fingering the flap of an open box.
    A sly grin tipped the edges of her mouth. “It makes no sense for me to really unpack. I don’t plan on being here long.”
    He stilled. “Where are you headed?”
    â€œNot sure. I don’t really need a house because I travel so much.”
    â€œI had the impression you were going to be in town for a while.”
    â€œFor the next few months at least. But I can barely take care of myself, let alone a house.”
    They were on the road almost immediately.
    â€œAren’t you going to stop and get a bag?”
    â€œMy sister lives in the area, and I can always swing by her house if need be.” He wove through Austin traffic, wanting to be headed south before rush hour. He flipped on the radio, which played a Christmas song. She stared out her window, unmindful of the jingle. They’d been on the road twenty minutes when he noticed she put her hand to her temple.
    â€œYou getting a headache?”
    â€œThe doctor said I might.” She smiled. “I’m fine. I’d rather keep going.”
    Caught up in the rush of seeing her, he’d not really thought about how a car ride would make her feel. He considered the remaining hour of traveling and weighed turning back. He chose the next option.
    â€œWhere are you going?”
    â€œTo my sister’s house.”
    A frown furrowed. “Why?”
    â€œYou aren’t feeling well.”
    â€œI feel fine. A little headache is not a big deal.”
    â€œIt’s a big deal when you’ve had a head injury. By the way, did you eat?”
    â€œI ate breakfast at the hospital.”
    â€œWhat, a fruit cup or pudding?”
    â€œFruit cup.”
    â€œNot enough.” He slowed and took a right onto a small road not marked with a street sign.
    â€œWhere are we going?”
    â€œTo my sister’s house.”
    He and Sherry had inherited the family ranch. Though he’d received the lion’s share of the land, their parents had deeded her the house. That suited him fine. He was far from being ready to settle down, and she and her