Jessie smiled. “A woman after my own heart. Maybe we should watch an old movie tonight. Does she have It’s a Wonderful Life or Miracle on 34th Street?”
“I’m sure she does, but I refuse to watch them if you’re going to start bawling.”
“Can’t stand to see a woman cry, huh?”
Certainly not this one woman in particular, he thought to himself. He would shift oceans, move continents if that’s what it took to keep Jessie happy. His brother had broken her heart.
As soon as the disloyal thought formed, Luke banished it. Jessie had loved Erik. Their marriage had been solid. It wasn’t for him to judge whether Erik’s decisions had disappointed her. He dragged himself back to the present and caught Jessie studying him curiously.
“Nope, I never could stand to see a woman cry,” he said, deliberately keeping his tone light. “I’m fresh out of hankies, too.”
Jessie grinned. “No problem. I saw boxes of tissues stashed in the bathroom closet.”
Luke heaved an exaggerated sigh of resignation. “I’ll find the tapes right after dinner.”
Dinner was sheer torture. Jessie found the candles Luke had avoided and lit them. The kitchen shimmered with candlelight and the glow from the fireplace. It was the kind of romantic lighting that turned a woman’s complexion delectably soft and alluring, the kind of lighting that stirred the imagination. Luke’s was working overtime. He could barely squeeze a bite of food past the lump lodged in his throat.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Jessie observed.
“Just enjoying the meal,” he claimed.
She eyed his full plate skeptically. “Really?”
He was saved from stammering out some sort of explanation by the sound of whimpers from the bedroom. “Angela’s awake,” he announced unnecessarily and bolted before Jessie could even react.
With the baby safely tucked against his chest, it was easier somehow to keep his emotions in check. Right now he figured Angela was as critical to his survival as a bulletproof vest was to a cop working the violent streets.
“She’s probably hungry,” Jessie said when the two of them were settled back at the table.
The innocent observation had Luke’s gaze suddenly riveted on Jessie’s chest. So much for keeping his attention focused elsewhere.
“She’s not making a fuss yet,” he replied in a choked voice, clinging to the baby a trifle desperately. “Enjoy your dinner.”
Jessie seemed about to protest, but finally nodded and picked up her fork. Luke kept his gaze firmly fixed on the baby.
“How are you doing, sweet pea? Ready for your very first Christmas? It’s almost time for the big show, the lighting of the tree.”
“It’s amazing the effect you have on her,” Jessie commented. “It must be your voice. It soothes her.”
Luke grinned. “Can’t tell you the number of women I’ve put to sleep by talking too much.”
Blue eyes observed him steadily as if trying to assess whether he was only teasing or boasting. Apparently she decided he was joking. To his amazement, he could see a hint of satisfaction in her eyes.
“I doubt that,” she countered dryly. “I suspect it’s the kind of voice that keeps grown-up women very much awake.”
“You included?” The words slipped out before he could stop them. His heart skidded to a standstill as he watched the color rise in her cheeks. Those telltale patches were answer enough. So he hadn’t totally misread those occasional sparks of interest in her eyes. Nevertheless, a few sparks weren’t enough to overcome a mountain of doubts.
Jessie seemed to struggle to find her voice. When she finally did, she said dryly, “Now that’s the famous Luke Adams ego that’s legendary around these parts.”
“That’s not an answer,” he taunted, enjoying the deepening color in her cheeks.
“It’s as close to one as you’re likely to get,” she taunted right back.
Luke chuckled. “Never mind. I already have my answer.”
Jessie’s gaze clashed with his, hers uncertain and very, very vulnerable. Luke finally relented. “You’re immune to me. You’ve seen me at my worst.”
“Bad enough to terrify the angels,” she confirmed, her voice laced with unmistakable gratitude for the reprieve he’d granted.
She stood up with a brisk movement and reached for the baby, making her claim on the armor he’d clung to so desperately. “I’ll feed her now,” she said.
“You haven’t had dessert,” Luke protested, not relinquishing the baby. At this rate they’d be engaged in a tug-of-war over the child.
“We’ll have it in front of the tree,” Jessie said determinedly and held out her arms.
Reluctantly, he placed Angela in her mother’s arms and watched them disappear down the hallway to the bedroom. Only when the door shut softly behind them did he breathe a heartfelt sigh of relief.
The reprieve, however, didn’t last nearly long enough for him to regain his equilibrium. The clean-up kept him occupied briefly. Fixing coffee and pie to take into the living room took only moments longer.
In the living room, he plugged in the tree and turned on the radio, once again tuning it to a station playing carols. The room shimmered with a thousand twinkling colored lights. Luke was certain he had never seen a more beautiful tree, never felt so clearly the meaning of Christmas.
As he anticipated Jessie’s return, he fingered the carved wooden figures in the crèche he’d placed beneath the tree, lingering over the baby Jesus. His thoughts were on another baby, one he wished with all of his jaded heart was his own.
He was standing, still and silent, when he sensed Jessie’s approach. He heard her soft, indrawn breath. The faint scent of her perfume whispered through the air, something fresh and light and indescribably sexy.
“Oh, Luke, it’s absolutely spectacular,” she murmured. “The whole room feels as if it’s alive with color.”
He glanced down and saw reflected sparks of light shimmering in her eyes. Her lush mouth was curved in the sweetest smile he’d ever seen. Angela was nestled in her arms, spawning inevitable comparisons to the most finely drawn works of Madonna and
