A Holiday To Remember. Jillian Hart

alone was daunting, but he said nothing else. Apparently he was a man of few words.

      Was he the withdrawn, quiet type? Or simply unfriendly? No, not unfriendly, she decided as he gestured with one big hand toward the door. He was very self-controlled.

      “Come in,” he said. “Ben’s not—”

      “He isn’t here?” Mia had a good view through the doorway as she skidded to a stop in front of Jonah Fraser. “But we came all this way and he promised. He said he’d have plans of what we’re gonna do next and everything.”

      So, Ben was a no-show.

      I feared this might happen, Debra bit her lip to keep the words to herself. Hadn’t she almost expected that Ben would let down Mia and then where would she be? Then again, maybe she was expecting the worst.

      She stepped forward to lay her hand on her daughter’s slim shoulder. “We are about an hour late. I almost called first from the bed-and-breakfast, but Ben had left a message with the manager just to head straight over.”

      “Did he give up waiting for us?” Mia asked, her voice trembling.

      “No.” Kindness flickered in Jonah’s eyes, which were darkly inscrutable. “An emergency call came in and he had to go out.”

      “Will he be back?” Mia asked, distressed.

      “He promised.”

      Debra didn’t want to notice the steady warmth in Jonah Fraser’s eyes or the subtle but unmistakable calm. Although he was physically intimidating, she felt intensely safe. And she couldn’t rightly say why. “Do you know if Ben will be long? We could head back to our room and wait for him.”

      “No need.” He took a step, leading the way, and the strong line of his shoulders dipped slightly as he drew his right leg forward.

      He was limping. And seriously. He was athletic enough that he compensated fairly well, but his wasn’t the kind of limp one might have with a sprained ankle. No, Jonah moved as if he’d been seriously wounded. She worked with a man who’d had a severe car accident and even years later, walked similarly. Had something like that happened to Jonah?

      He held the door and closed it after them, stiffly polite. “Go through that door. You’ll be more comfortable in there.”

      She imagined he’d feel more comfortable, too. She untied her scarf and snowflakes tumbled from the wool to the floor between them. Jonah said nothing, leaving silence to fill the space. She didn’t know what to say to this man who looked like he was made of steel on the inside, too. He certainly didn’t say much.

      Which was a change from most men she knew. She realized she was staring at him a little too openly and her face heated. Really, what was wrong with her? Was this a sign she was losing it completely? She’d been under a lot of strain lately, but she wasn’t one to openly study a man, as if she were interested….

      Really, she was not interested in another man who would only let her down. She turned to take Mia’s coat and realized the girl had wandered off toward a maze of machines in the middle of the shop, and some had sharp-looking blades. “Mia, don’t snoop. Come back here.”

      “But, Mom, you gotta see this! It’s awesome.”

      It was the wonder in Mia’s voice that drew Debra forward, to see over a huge angular and very technical-looking saw to a lone crib in the later stages of construction. Without stain or varnish, without polish or even all of its pieces, the crib was beautiful. It stood in the sift of light from a roof window directly overhead and looked like something out of a dream, diffused with light.

      As Debra stepped closer, she saw the careful scrollwork and the intricate hand carving that was sheer perfection. She ran her fingertip over the smooth-as-glass texture, feeling awe sift through her like the snowflakes outside.

      The time and patience it must take to do such beautiful work, she couldn’t imagine. It was delicate and fragile and storybook beautiful, but what really mystified her was the man who’d made it.

      The reticent, brawny Jonah Fraser had done this.

      Chapter Two

      Jonah Fraser stirred the contents of the last hot-chocolate package into the coffee cup, watching the tiny white marshmallows swirl in the whirlpool created by the spoon. He held his emotions still as he kept Debra Cunningham Watson, of the publishing empire, in his peripheral vision.

      Ben had talked about her and, since Ben was more than his employer but a close friend, he felt that he had some stake in this. Ben had been glad to learn the identity of his birth mother and that while she had sadly passed away, he had three other half siblings to get to know. Debra was the oldest of the Watson clan and she was about what he expected.

      Ben had glossed over the details, but Jonah could read between the lines. She had that tight-lipped reserve he’d seen before from old-money families. He knew she was a big executive, a vice president or something. Everything about her shouted privilege, from her sleek brown locks to her perfect skin and smile to the upscale designer clothes she wore. Conservative black wool and trendy winter boots. Yep, she definitely looked like the type of woman who had an MBA from Harvard.

      Jonah removed the spoon from the cup. He kept Debra Watson in his sight while he grabbed the two chipped mugs by the handles and headed their way. A few things about her puzzled him. One, her chin-up, lips-pursed attitude had softened as she studied the crib. That told him her manner was more facade and habit, it was easy to see she wasn’t as icy as she first seemed.

      The second thing that surprised him was the age of the daughter. Twelve or thirteen, he guessed. Ben had mentioned the girl, but not her age, not that Jonah could recall, and it made him wonder what had gone on there. Debra must have gotten married young and divorced. That was his guess, anyway.

      “Wow, this is so cool.” Mia was all cheerful exuberance as she circled the crib. “Are you, like, making this? I mean, you’re just making it all by yourself?”

      “Yep. With wood and tools and everything.”

      “It’s so cool!”

      “Thanks.” He took one look at the girl’s innocent excitement and suddenly the memory of other children in another country hit him like a flash flood. Stay in the present, bud, he told himself, fighting the flashback. He locked down the doors on his heart before his sorrow and guilt could overtake him and bolted those doors good.

      He set both cups down on the nearby worktable that stood between them. “Hot chocolate with minimarshmallows. I hope that’s okay.”

      “Thanks!” The kid lit up. She was easily thrilled. Anyone could see she’d been raised with care and love. And manners, because she grabbed both cups and took one to her mother. To the woman who was staring at him as if he’d sprouted antennae and turned martian green.

      Great. He often had that effect on women who didn’t know him. He’d experienced this before. The more dainty and proper and upper-crust the lady, the more likely she was to be put off by the sheer size of him.

      He was a big guy, and he’d been told he looked fairly fierce. He couldn’t argue with that—a recon marine was about as tough of a warrior as it was possible to be. He knew the stain of what he’d accomplished and failed to accomplish as a marine in Iraq clung to him like residue. He often wondered if it somehow put other people off.

      “Thank you.” The woman—Debra—had taken a step back as if she were intimidated and took a dainty sip of the hot chocolate. Somehow she was able to avoid the marshmallow fluff that stained her daughter’s mouth. The girl had come around the worktable to stare openly at him, while the woman—Debra—was studying the crib.

      So he took a moment to study her. Ben’s half sister. He couldn’t see it at first. But as she stepped into the softer daylight from the roof windows, it became more evident in the simple straight dignity of her nose, which wasn’t too small or big, and in the manner that she held her head just so while