Colorado Christmas. C.C. Coburn

makes a nice footrest in front of the fire on cold nights. Dermott’s the setter. He’s got no brains whatsoever, but he loves children. Charles needs psychotherapy—” he pointed to the bull terrier “—because he’s in love with Louella Farquar. And Henri’s convinced he’s related to Louis XVI and doesn’t much care for walks.”

      “He’s wearing fur-lined booties and a fur doggie coat,” she said. “The question is why?”

      “Seriously, he thinks he’s related to royalty—hence, the fur coat. Fake fur,” he pointed out. “And the booties are to protect his dear little feet from the cold.”

      Becky was charmed by his genuine affection for the animals. “Why are you walking so many dogs? Have you started a dog-walking business since we last met?” She bent to pet the dogs again.

      “Nope. Although your suggestion has merit. Would you date me if I had a dog-walking business?” he asked.

      Becky stood, ready to make her departure. “No.”

      “I’m going to keep asking, you know that, don’t you?”

      “And I’m going to keep saying no, regardless of what sort of business you have, Mr. O’Malley. Good day.” She turned to leave.

      “They belong to Miss Patterson up on Lincoln Street,” he said, stalling her. “She’s getting too frail to handle them all herself.”

      Becky turned back, realizing she hadn’t discovered why he was walking so many dogs.

      “She could probably cope with Henri. But she’ll have to give the others away and it’s going to break her heart. These dogs are her children. Imagine how that would tear you up, having to give away a child of yours, let alone four of them.”

      Becky didn’t want to consider how desolate she’d feel about losing Nicolas. In truth, she was relieved Graham had rejected their son when they’d received his diagnosis. It meant he’d never show up on her doorstep demanding custody or even visitation rights.

      “We had a long talk about the boys’ futures and Miss P.’s asked me to inquire around for good homes. Would you be interested in adopting Dugald, by any chance?”

      She bent to pet the Scottie again. Nicolas begged her for a puppy on a weekly basis. He’d hinted it would be the perfect Christmas present. Becky didn’t have room in her life for a dog, so that particular Christmas wish would remain unfulfilled.

      She shook her head, but she was touched by Will O’Malley’s caring attitude. His brother had testified he was kind to old people and animals, and it was obviously the truth. She’d sensed in court that there was more to the man than his misconduct would indicate. And to his credit, she’d seen him scrubbing the demolition vehicles the very evening she’d handed down her punishment. A group of Boy Scouts were helping him and seemed to be enjoying themselves and his company. Thankfully, he’d been so engrossed in his task, he hadn’t noticed her passing by. Earlier, she’d seen him standing outside the supermarket entrance, dressed as Santa and ringing a bell, collecting money for a local charity. She couldn’t fault his community spirit.

      She glanced up from the dogs to find him appraising her openly. “What are you looking at?”

      “You. You’re gorgeous.”

      Becky felt herself blush to the roots of her hair. No man had ever paid her such a bold compliment. “No, I’m not.”

      “Oh, yes, you are,” he insisted. “Come out with me tonight?”

      There was no way she was going anywhere with Will O’Malley, no matter how good-looking or how kind to animals and the elderly he was. And no matter how many roses he sent her.

      Becky had been delighted by the first delivery. Then she’d read the card and discovered who’d sent them.

      The certain knowledge that encouraging him would be disastrous for her career advancement made it easy to reject his overtures. Will O’Malley was Trouble.

      She was about to turn down his invitation, when the dogs started to walk around them—in opposite directions. They strained against their leashes, forcing Becky against Will O’Malley’s body and tightening his arms around her.

      “Oh!” she cried as their bodies touched intimately from chest to knee, courtesy of the dogs.

      “This is nice,” he murmured and bent to kiss her. Startled, Becky turned her head to the side to avoid letting their mouths make contact. Then wished she hadn’t. The feel of his warm lips brushing her cheek had her wanting more. But this was madness. She leaned away from him as best she could. “Mr. O’Malley! Get your hands off me.”

      “We’re not in court anymore, darlin’,” he drawled in a tone that was guaranteed to make any woman weak in the knees—her included. “So why don’t you call me Will?”

      She pushed against his chest. “How about if I don’t? Now, get your hands off me,” she repeated in a low growl.

      He looked pointedly at where her hands lay against his chest. “Seems like you’re the one who’s got her hands all over me. Mine are only around you because of the dogs.”

      She glanced down to see that her fingers had curled into his shirtfront as though seeking greater contact.

      “Oh!” She pulled them back abruptly.

      “Don’t be frightened. I was enjoying myself, and judging by the flush on your pretty cheeks and that tiny pulse throbbing in your neck—” he grinned with mischievous intent and gazed into her eyes “—I do believe you were enjoying yourself, too.”

      She was lost in the depths of his eyes. Chocolate-brown eyes…He was too smooth for words. Too dangerous, too damned attractive. She needed to take control. Control was what she thrived on. It gave meaning to her life—helped her cope in any situation.

      Forcing strength back into her legs, she stood up to her full height. “Why…you arrogant…pest! How dare you assume such a thing. Now, get the dogs unraveled and let me go. I have a reputation to uphold. I can’t be seen being manhandled in the street by a…a delinquent.”

      “So quit your job and come live with me. Then I can manhandle you all you want,” he said, as if her concerns about her reputation didn’t matter one iota to him.

      Her cheeks burned with anger.

      “Because that’s what you really want, isn’t it, darlin’? You want me to hold you…and touch you…and kiss every inch of your beautiful body….”

      She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. A moment ago, she’d wanted to throttle him. But in all honesty, what he was suggesting was exactly what she wanted him to do. Hadn’t she dreamed of it every night since she’d met him?

      She gave herself a mental shake. What was she thinking? Letting him touch her, kiss her…A flutter of anticipation filled her at the notion of being seduced by Will O’Malley. He’d probably prove a very thorough—and satisfying—lover.

      But he wasn’t for her. Absolutely not! As an official of the law, she had to maintain her reputation. It was part of the reason she’d become a judge. Judges were highly respected members of society, and she wanted respect more than anything in her life.

      The humiliation of attending court with her father, holding him up because he was so drunk, was deeply imprinted in her psyche. Becky had been fifteen, vulnerable, angry and confused. But when she’d seen the judge sitting behind his bench and being called “Your Honor” by everyone present, Becky knew the career she wanted to pursue—a career that commanded respect. She’d hated being the outcast at school, the new girl wearing thrift-shop clothes because the family moved from town to town and was too destitute, because of her father’s gambling and drinking, to afford anything new. Tears sprang to her eyes at the memory.

      HER TEARS SHOCKED WILL. Surely she didn’t feel threatened by his playful advances? He gave the dogs a sharp command and