Santa Brought A Son. Melissa McClone

pine scent.

      A satisfied feeling settled in the center of her chest. The bride and groom had wanted a Christmas wedding theme, and Samantha had done her best to give it to them. Not only here, but at the reception site, too.

      She ran through her mental checklist. Almost everything was ready. Soon the church would be filled with friends and family, witnesses to Mark Slayter’s and Kelli Jefferson’s exchange of wedding vows.

      A lump formed in Samantha’s throat. As a girl, she’d dreamed about having a big wedding in a church overflowing with everyone she’d ever known, walking down the aisle with her father, wearing a white gown fit for a fairy princess. But reality had been a wedding at city hall with only her future in-laws, Helen and Frank Wilson, in attendance. Samantha’s parents hadn’t given her the courtesy of an RSVP. The only white on the floral-print dress she’d normally worn to church had been the collar.

      No diamond ring or bouquet of roses or exotic honeymoon, either. She touched Helen’s strand of pearls for a moment and let go of them. So she didn’t get the wedding of her dreams. She got something much better.

      Samantha noticed a crooked bow on a pew wreath. She shifted the bouquet to her left hand and adjusted the ribbon until it was perfect.

      “Sam?”

      The name echoed in the church and she froze. No one had called her that in years. As she glanced toward the back, a man in a navy suit stepped from the vestibule. Dark-brown hair, warm chocolate eyes and a smile that made her legs feel like wilted rose stems. She tightened her grip on the bouquet. “Y-y-yes.”

      “It is you,” Reed Connors said.

      The closer he came, the harder it was to breathe. She clutched the end of a pew and took deep breaths until she was strong enough to face him.

      His looks had matured. His nose was the same, straight except for a bump where he’d gotten hit with a snowball junior year, but his cheekbones looked chiseled, more defined. His jaw looked stronger and his lips seemed more full. He’d grown taller and filled out, too. His suit fit perfectly, accentuating his wide shoulders and perfect posture.

      “Reed.” With her heart pounding in her chest, she struggled to remain calm. He’d never called, never wrote, never returned to Fernville in almost nine years. And now to walk back into her life…An odd combination of fear and resentment made its way down her spine. “What are you doing here?”

      “Mark’s wedding.”

      Samantha had forgotten Reed and Mark had been best friends in high school. She’d pushed that, and a million other little details from the past, to the back of her mind. Sometimes it was too painful to remember.

      Reed glanced at his watch. “Look’s like we’re both early. Mark wanted me to stop by before the ceremony.”

      “I’ve been here for hours. I’m doing the flowers,” she said a little too quickly. “I mean, I’m a guest, too, but I’m also the florist. I have my own flower shop here in town.”

      His eyes widened, but returned to normal in an instant. Strange, he had never been this calm and collected before. He’d been so shy and adoring whenever he helped her with homework. It had made her feel feminine and cherished. A way she hadn’t felt with anyone else.

      But the man standing in front of her didn’t look as though he got nervous about anything or anyone. And man was the only way to describe him.

      Reed Connors had gone from brainy looking and skinny to gorgeous and a hunk. Had it taken a kiss to turn him from frog to prince? She swallowed. Hard. Not that she had any intention of falling under his spell again.

      Besides she’d never cared what he looked like. She’d seen beneath his being too thin with thick glasses and a bad case of acne to the caring person underneath. At least, she’d thought he’d cared. Thought he’d loved her. But she’d been wrong. About Reed, about so many things. She stared at the bouquet in her left hand.

      “You stayed in Fernville?” he asked.

      “I…I…we stayed.”

      She waited for him to ask about Timmy. Her son.

      Their son.

      But Reed didn’t. Damn him. After all this time, she thought Reed would have been at least curious about Timmy. She pushed her disappointment aside for the millionth time, but a permanent sorrow bore down on her. Reed must have ice running through his veins. Nothing else would explain his actions.

      But she had to remember it was for the best. No one knew the truth about her son. No one except her, Art and Reed. And she had to keep it that way.

      Reed’s assessing gaze made Samantha feel tongue-tied and self-conscious in her found-on-sale-at-the-consignment-store black dress. She pushed back a stray hair that had slipped out of her French twist.

      The tables had turned.

      She was no longer the girl she’d been. No longer the daughter of the wealthy Browns who could never live up to the example set by her perfect older brother. Samantha had known her parents’ love had to be earned, but she never thought they could harden their hearts against her so easily and kick her out of the house when she’d told them she was pregnant, a month before high school graduation. She’d been alone, penniless and homeless. Thanks to Reed, her entire life had been altered.

      Shattered.

      But she had picked up the pieces, and with help from Art and his parents, moved on. She was now part of the Wilson family, and had to be careful so nothing she did would change that. But Reed’s presence was another living reminder of her biggest mistake. If Frank and Helen found out…Samantha squared her shoulders.

      “Has life gotten more exciting here?” Reed asked.

      “No, but I like it.”

      “You never used to like it.”

      “True.” In high school she couldn’t wait to leave the confines of Fernville. The small town had threatened to suffocate her and her dreams. Now someone would have to drag her away from the comfort of the town she fondly called home. “Things, people change.”

      “Not you.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “You look the same. Only better.”

      His compliment sent an unexpected rush of emotion through her. Her cheeks warmed, and she smoothed the skirt of her dress. “You’re only being polite.”

      “I’m not,” he admitted. “You look great.”

      “So do you. In your suit and everything.” Darn, the more she said the stupider she sounded. That wouldn’t do at all. So what if he wore a designer suit and expensive leather shoes and looked like a male model? Reed, of all men, should not be having this effect on her. Not that it was really an effect. She was merely flustered by his sudden appearance. “I mean—”

      “I know what you mean.”

      Reed and she might have been different back when, but Samantha had believed he understood her like no one else, not even Art. She could be herself and not worry whether he would like her or not. But when push came to shove, Art had been the one who’d known what she needed in a way that defied logic, not Reed. The fact he still hadn’t asked about Timmy proved how little either of them had understood or known about each other. Well, she wasn’t about to offer any information.

      Reed glanced around. “You’ve done a beautiful job transforming the church into a holiday wonderland, but what happened to moving to the big city, becoming a lawyer and fighting to right the injustices of the world?”

      A teenage pregnancy, being disowned by her parents, getting married the day after high school graduation, a part-time job at a grocery store and a baby at age eighteen. “Life.”

      “Care to elaborate?”

      “Not really.” He knew some of the story, but hadn’t cared enough to do anything. And he still didn’t care. It was better this way. She had