Candlelight Christmas

up to show off their gear.”

“What do you mean, you work with sponsors?”

“As a sponsored athlete.”

“Seriously? What kind of sport?” he asked, holding the back door for her. The kitchen, though deserted, was fragrant with the morning’s first pot of coffee.

“Snowboarding is my specialty. I’ll be testing gear and apparel, and there will be photos and videos for the sponsors’ catalogue and website. Hence the need to shoot when the weather is cooperating.” She helped herself to a cup of coffee and poured one for him.

“You snowboard to test and promote your sponsors’ gear, and that’s your job.”

“Yes, some of the time.” She started feeling a bit defensive, as if he was judging her. There was a lot more to her job, but this weekend, that was it in a nutshell.

Logan lifted his coffee mug in salute. “That is made of awesome.”

She laughed. All right, so he wasn’t judging her. “The job’s not that much fun every day, but I can’t complain.”

“Coolness. The more I get to know you,” he said, “the more I like you.” He put a couple of English muffins in the toaster. “Peanut butter, strawberry jam or both?” he asked.

“Be still, my heart.”

Oh, this was bad. Because she liked him, too, but he was everything she wasn’t looking for—a single dad, a man who had said, practically at their first meeting, that he wanted a big family. The idea made her stomach tighten with tension.

“You’re going to love hanging out with me,” he said, slathering the English muffins with peanut butter and jam, and handing her one

“What makes you think I’m going to hang out with you?” She took a bite of the warm, gooey muffin. It was almost as delicious as kissing him.

“Because I have a ski resort. I mean, I’m part of the investment group, but I’m the controlling partner and general manager.” He paused and watched her savoring the muffin, seeming to focus on her lips. Then he picked up a napkin and gently dabbed at the corner of her mouth. “You inspired me,” he said simply.

It was the last thing she expected to hear from him. “Huh?” she said, with peanut butter charmingly stuck to the roof of her mouth.

“Last summer, when you talked about taking risks.”

“I can’t believe you remember that.” She was flustered...but flattered.

“So in the future, if you need a location for doing your gear testing and photo shoots, I can offer you carte blanche at Saddle Mountain. Come check it out some time. Come soon.”

“Now, that,” she said, “is made of awesome. I’ll definitely tell my team. We’ve got a project going with a new snowboard company, and we’ll be doing a shoot sometime in December.”

“You ought to come give Saddle Mountain a try. We’ll give you VIP privileges.”

She polished off the English muffin, unable to recall enjoying a breakfast more. “Wow. I guess knowing the controlling partner is a perk.”

“Controlling partner?” Al O’Donnell came into the kitchen. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Darcy sensed it was her cue to leave. “I’d better hit the shower.”

“Don’t run off,” said Al, looking a bit sheepish. “Logan and I can talk about this later.”

“Or not,” Logan said good-naturedly, pouring coffee for his father. “Actually, I—”

A cell phone on the counter chimed. Logan checked it, and his face changed entirely, turning marble-hard with tension. “Sorry, I have to take this. Excuse me.” Grabbing the phone, he stepped out to the backyard.

Darcy took a sip of coffee. She slid the cream pitcher across the counter toward Al. Your son just kissed me, she thought. And then: I liked it. She hoped she wasn’t blushing too much. “Ah,” she said, “that awkward moment when one has no idea what to say.”

Al chuckled. “Nonsense. I didn’t mean... Logan doesn’t seem to understand how proud I am of all he’s accomplished.”

“Have you explained that to him?”

“Maybe not directly, but he knows.”

Darcy wasn’t so sure of that.

“We talked about that resort,” Al said. “That Saddle Mountain place. I was hoping it was just a passing fancy. I didn’t think he’d actually go for it. Sounds like a leap off the fiscal cliff to me.”

She didn’t say anything. This was between the two of them. Yet Al seemed to want to talk. He seemed like a good guy—blustery, bossy, but kindhearted. India adored him. And he was certainly good-looking, big and athletic, his abundant red hair fading at the temples. When she regarded Al, she could picture Logan thirty years from now. Scary thought—she enjoyed picturing Logan thirty years from now.

“He’s always been too fond of skiing and snowboarding,” Al said, pacing back and forth. “People think that just because they love something, they can make it their life’s work.”

She laughed. “Al. Listen to yourself.”

“Okay, but still. If you saw your kid about to step off a cliff, wouldn’t you be concerned?”

“Logan seems pretty sturdy to me. I wouldn’t worry.”

“Why’re you worrying about Dad?” asked Charlie, coming into the kitchen. His face was still sleep-soft, making him look even younger than ten.

Darcy was struck by an urge to reach out to him. Kids needed hugging. “For somebody who doesn’t like kids,” Logan had said, “you sure like kids.”

“Should I worry about Dad?” Charlie asked, absently scratching his cheek.

“Of course not,” said Al, giving him a kiss on the head. “You have a great dad.”

“You can say that again.” Logan came back into the kitchen, phone in hand. “I’ve got a little news, Charlie-my-man.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows shot up.

“Your buddy Andre?”

“From Camp Kioga, yeah! What about him?”

“He and his sister are going to be spending Christmas with us.”

“Cool!”

“What?” asked Al, another thunderous frown darkening his face.

“Christmas at Willow Lake,” said Logan. “How does that sound?”

“We always have Christmas here,” said Al.

“And now I really am hitting the shower,” Darcy announced. She truly did not want to be in the middle of this. It sounded like a family matter. It sounded eerily like her own family—the arguing, the affection, the power struggles, the sense of caring, sometimes caring so much that it hurt.

Chapter Eight

Logan heard the clack of suitcase wheels on the adobe tile of the foyer, and knew Darcy was about to depart. Fresh out of the shower, he leaned toward the mirror to make sure he hadn’t missed a spot shaving, then hurried downstairs to tell her goodbye.

He didn’t want her to leave. He wanted her to stay. He wanted to kiss her some more, for sure. He wanted to make out with her, run his hands over that amazing, athletic, taut body, inhale the flowery smell of her hair, taste the strawberry jam on her lips...

Not possible, though. She had to rush back to the city and Lake Placid and her work project, while he had to wrap up the holiday here, tell Charlie goodbye until Christmas and get back to Avalon for work. Most of all, he had a project that was going to take all his energy and focus. He had to prepare to look after Maya Martin’s children.

It was probably for the best that he and Darcy had been interrupted before they even got started.

But holy crap. It was going to be a long time before he forgot about that kiss.