Free Holiday Wishes by Nora Roberts Page A

little sprigs of violets. At the windows were fussy priscillas. There was an antique rosewood bureau cluttered with colored bottles and boxes. On a vanity was an old-fashioned silver-handled brush and comb. He watched the snow fall and smelled the potpourri on the stand beside the bed. The room was so like her—charming, fresh and very, very feminine. A man could relax there even knowing he might find stockings draped over a chair or a blouse mixed with his shirts. He could relax there. And he wasn’t letting her go again.
    He smelled the coffee before he was halfway down the stairs. She had Christmas music on the stereo and bacon frying. He hadn’t known it would feel so good just to walk into a kitchen and find your woman cooking for you.
    â€œSo you’re up.” She was wrapped from head to foot in a bright flannel robe. Desire dragged quietly at his stomach muscles. “There’s coffee.”
    â€œI could smell it.” He went to her. “I could smell you the moment I woke.”
    She rested her head on his shoulder, trying not to think that this was the way it might have been—if only. “You look as though you could have slept for hours. It’s a good thing you didn’t or the bacon would be cold.”
    â€œIf you’d stayed in bed a few more minutes, we might have—”
    â€œMom! Mom! It’s snowing!” Clara burst through the door and danced around the kitchen. “We’re going to go caroling tonight in the hay wagon and there’s snow all over the place.” She stopped in front of Jason and grinned. “Hi.”
    â€œHi, yourself.”
    â€œMom and I are going to build a snowman. She says Christmas snowmen are the best. You can help.”
    She hadn’t known just what reaction Clara would have to finding Jason at the breakfast table. With a shake of her head, Faith began to beat eggs. She should have known Clara would be willing to accept anyone she’d decided to like. “You have to have some breakfast.”
    Clara fingered the plastic Santa on her lapel, tugging on the string so that the nose lit up. It never failed to please her. “I had cereal at Marcie’s.”
    â€œDid you thank her mother for having you?”
    â€œYeah.” She stopped a minute. “I think I did. Anyway, we’re going to build two of them and have a wedding and everything. Marcie wanted the wedding,” she added to Jason.
    â€œClara would prefer a war.”
    â€œI figured we could have that after. Maybe I should have some hot chocolate first.” She eyed the cookie jar and calculated her chances. Slim at best.
    â€œI’ll fix it. And you can have a cookie after the snowman,” Faith told her without bothering to turn. “Hang your things by the door.”
    Scrambling out of her coat, she chattered at Jason. “You’re not going back to Africa, are you? I don’t think Africa would be much fun at Christmas. Marcie’s mother said you’d probably be going to some other neat place.”
    â€œI’m supposed to go to Hong Kong in a few weeks.” He glanced at Faith. She didn’t turn. “But I’ll be around for Christmas.”
    â€œDo you have a tree in your room?”
    â€œNo.”
    She gave him a wide-eyed look. “Well, where do you put your presents? It’s not Christmas without a tree, is it, Mom?”
    Faith thought of the years Jason had grown up without one. She remembered how hard he’d tried to pretend it didn’t matter. “A tree’s only so that we can show other people it’s Christmas.”
    Unconvinced, Clara plopped into a chair. “Well, maybe.”
    â€œShe used to say the same thing to me,” Jason told Clara. “In any case, I don’t think Mr. Beantree would like it if I left pine needles all over the floor.”
    â€œWe’ve got a tree, so you can have dinner with us,” Clara declared. “Mom