Silhouette Christmas Stories

cabinet and opening the door. 'Come see for yourself.'

Slade came to a halt behind her. 'Good God.' The cabinet was full. The only item in it was graham crackers, boxes of them.

Carroll chuckled. 'It's cheaper than a shrink.'

Her soft laughter was the sweetest sound in the whole world. He reached for her, his hands cupping her face. When he lowered his head, she tilted hers, meeting him halfway. Her lips were as sweet and eager as he'd dreamed they would be. Her breath was as ragged as his. Her sigh, and the way her body melted against his, told him more than she wanted him to know. When he reluctantly lifted his head, she made a soft, bereft sound.

'This is only the beginning for us, honey,' he muttered, running his thumb gently over her full lower lip. Over the pounding of her heart, Carroll heard Christy thump through the dining room, and alarm flared in her eyes.

'Slade!' She attempted to move away and realized that she was pinned between the cupboard and Slade's hard body. 'She'll see us!'

'Would that be so bad?' But he stepped back and watched her run a shaky hand through her hair.

'Yes.'

'I think you might be surprised,' he murmured, smiling down at her. She might straighten her hair, but she couldn't erase the look of dazed pleasure from her dark eyes. 'As I said, honey, it's only the beginning.'

Christy swung through the door, her intelligent blue eyes darting from her mother's tense expression to Slade's small smile. 'God bless us, every one!' she whooped.

Chapter Six

'Ha! Did you hear that? What did I tell you?' Kris gleefully smacked the workbench with an open hand and looked up from the small television, where a weatherman was drawing arrows on a map of the western states. 'Cold front up in Canada, and the pressure's dropping here. Know what that means?'

'It means that you're a raving optimist,' Slade muttered, turning several pages in the big notebook and frowning at the figures. 'Not that it's going to snow.'

'We'll see.' Kris snapped off the television and turned to face the younger man. 'I think you ought to marry the girl.'

Slade stilled. 'Which girl?'

Kris snorted. 'How many are you chasing? If you're looking at any other women the way you're watching my granddaughter, we got a problem.' He waited. 'If you don't know how to ask her, I've got a couple of foolproof suggestions.'

'No thanks.' Slade met the old man's expectant gaze. 'Somehow you'd manage to turn things into a three-ring circus.'

'You don't seem to be getting anywhere,' Kris grumbled. 'Christy needs some brothers and sisters, and I need some more kids around the house. We could call one Holly, one Ivy and one Harold.'

'Harold? Why would anyone name a boy-' He stopped, trying to consider Kris's unique point of view. 'As in, 'Hark, the… '?' he asked suspiciously. When Kris nodded, he said emphatically, 'No way. No kid of mine is-'

'It's not a name I'd choose myself,' Kris agreed, 'but it was the only one I could think of for a boy off the top of my head.' His face brightened and he snapped his fingers. 'There's always Rudolph.'

Slade groaned.

'Of course, if you haven't even gotten around to asking her yet, I don't know why you're so concerned. It seems to me that you're jumping the gun just a bit.'

Slade sighed resignedly. 'I've asked her.'

'And?'

'She'll marry me.'

'Did she say so?'

'No. But she will. When the time is right.'

'Right?' He paced back and forth in front of Slade impatiently. 'What's to be right? You ask, she says yes, and you get to work on little Holly and Ivy. And Harold. Or Rudolph. Maybe I should talk to her.'

'No.'

Kris pursed his lips at the unequivocal word. 'No?'

'Butt out, Kris. We'll handle this ourselves.' Shooting him a narrow-eyed glance, Slade said, 'I mean it. If I hear that you've said one word to her about this, I'll come down here with some snippers and make this the darkest Christmas you've ever had.'

Kris ignored the threat. 'Speaking of lights, what are we going to do on Christmas Eve? Are you working on it? Time's passing, boy.'

Slade slammed the notebook shut and surged to his feet. 'I don't know what we're going to do. You don't have a magic wand to wave over the town, and neither do I.' He hesitated. 'Maybe you're just going to have to settle for the lights you're turning on tomorrow.'

Patting him on the shoulder, Kris said, 'Don't worry about it, boy. I know you'll do it. And while you're taking care of that, I'm getting the rest organized. When the play is over and everyone comes out of the community building-the one in the park, you know-the rest of the lights will go on, and I'll come riding through the snow in the sleigh.' He rubbed his hands in anticipation. 'Then we'll deliver the presents and get done in plenty of time for the potluck supper and candlelight service at church. Which reminds me, I'll have to get Carroll to run a notice off on the computer and let everyone know the schedule.'

'Why don't you just play 'Taps' and let them guess?' Slade asked, heading for the stairs.

Kris gave a gentle cough. 'By the way, I did say we'll be delivering the gifts. Do you want to wear an elf costume and help me on the sleigh?'

Carroll tied a red ribbon around the last plastic-wrapped torte, listening to the rumble of the men's voices in the basement. Apparently operating on the theory that it was better to join 'em when you couldn't beat 'em, Slade was no longer trying to work during the two afternoon hours. The decision hadn't come easily, she remembered, grinning faintly. After three more incidents with lost design parts-two where he had been in a distant part of the house and couldn't get back in time, and once when his concentration had been so intense he simply hadn't heard the cornet- he had surrendered, claiming that it was either that or throttle Kris.

Life was getting complicated, she decided, her smile fading as she stared at the lopsided ribbon. Now he spent that time at her house, ostensibly conferring with Kris, but somehow ending up with her. And driving her crazy. He hovered, he stood too close, he sat too close, he smiled at her, his eyes smiled at her, for heaven's sake! And he watched her, and waited.

It wasn't as if he were bombarding her with proposals, she reflected, tugging at the bow. No, his approach was more subtle than she had anticipated, like that of a man attempting to tame a wild animal. He touched her, lightly, as he passed, allowing the gesture to be a hair more than fleeting, but not allowing it to threaten. When he was too close, he stretched the time just a smidgen beyond her comfort zone, then moved.

Subtle, yes. And it was working.

That and the memory of his kiss. Their kiss. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Slade had made certain that she wouldn't mistake it for a platonic, neighborly, holiday greeting. He had also brought back unsettling memories.

She had almost forgotten how it felt to have a man's strong arms wrap around her, pulling her close. Almost forgotten the convulsive movement and hardening of his body. The ache, the languid melting, of her own. The ragged breathlessness. The heat, blood racing through her veins like a runaway train. With-out a single word, he had reminded her of what it meant to be a woman. Not just a mother or a daughter. A woman.

She didn't welcome the memory. As a matter of fact, she had kept her life relatively uncomplicated and contented because she had managed to forget. Almost. The worst part was that he had brought an entirely new element into the situation. A hunger, a need to touch and be touched, that she had never