The Billionaire's Christmas Desire. Janice Maynard

while it snows outside sounds fun. Now I can’t wait for the first flakes to fall.”

      Shaking her head, she smiled at him while her insides fluttered. Saturday night with Zach would not be the same as working together in a spacious office. “In the meantime, let’s go back to work,” she said, pulling her chair close to the open box of letters.

      She read more letters—some were by his great-grandfather, most by his great-great-grandfather, all of them mixed together. She had trays she would place them in according to generation. She had made trays labeled by dates, water rights, and “boundary disputes.” She tried to sort them all the ways that would be helpful. If she had time before the job ended, she would put them in chronological order.

      She had read five letters when she shoved her hand into the box to get more and felt a hard lump beneath the letters. She moved them carefully, placing them to one side in the box, and found two objects wrapped in cloth. “Zach, there are some things in this box. They’re wrapped in rags.” She carefully continued to remove letters as he crossed the room. He bent over to plunge his hand in.

      “Zach, be careful with the letters.”

      “Ah, Emma, these letters are not priceless heirlooms.”

      “They may be to some of your family.”

      “I’ll be damned,” he said, grasping something wrapped in cloth and pulling it out of the box. He tossed away the rags. “This is a Colt. It’s a beauty.” He checked to see if it was loaded—it wasn’t. “This is fantastic. You said there were two things.”

      He placed the Colt on an empty chair and turned to reach into the box to withdraw the other object wrapped in cloth.

      “It’s a rifle,” he said, unwrapping strips of rags that had yellowed with age. Zach tossed them into a trash basket and held the rifle in his hands, checking to be certain it was not loaded. “It’s a Henry. I’ll say my ancestors knew their weapons. A Colt revolver and a Henry rifle.” He raised it to aim toward the patio. “This is a find. Why would anyone stick these in with a bunch of letters? If I had been the only descendant, I would have pitched the boxes and never given them another thought.”

      “Well, aren’t we all glad keeping the heirlooms was not left to you alone,” she said sweetly and he grinned.

      “The Henry was a repeating rifle that came out about the time the Civil War began. This is fabulous,” he said, running his hand over it. “Now I can feel a tie with my ancestors with these two weapons. Ryan is going to love both of these. So will Will.”

      “You make it sound as if all of you are gun-toting cowboys, which I know is not the case. Far from it. You’re a man of cities.”

      “I still love this. It’s a beaut and Will and Ryan are going to love it. Garrett—he’s a family friend—won’t be so wound up over it, I don’t think. He’s the city person, which makes it funny that Dad willed this ranch to Garrett and not to any of his sons. It’s also why Garrett is in no rush to claim it. This Henry is something.”

      She picked up an envelope. “If you’ll excuse me, you can go drool over your guns while I read.” She withdrew a letter. “Want me to read aloud?”

      “I don’t think so, thank you,” he said, smiling. He picked up the revolver and carried a weapon in each hand back to place them on his desk. As soon as he sat, he called Will to tell him about the latest find.

      They talked at length before he told Will goodbye and then called Ryan to tell him about the revolver and the rifle. She shook her head and bent over the latest letter, still thinking the letters were the real treasure.

      It was an hour before he finished talking to both brothers. With his hands on his hips, he looked at the boxes. “Some of the boxes have objects of value. There’s one more box. I wonder if each one will hold its own treasure. I’ll start looking through this box,” he said, sitting down and pulling a box close. He took out a bunch of letters and put them on the floor.

      “These letters are not packed away in any apparent order,” she said. “Put the letters in this box because it’s almost empty now. You’ll tear them up, dumping them out like that. I’ll help you.”

      “The precious letters. I’ll take more care,” he said, and began to shift them to the box she had beside her. When his box was three-fourths empty, hers had been filled. He bent over his box and felt around. “I don’t feel anything, except letters.”

      “Try reading a few,” she suggested.

      He frowned slightly and picked up a letter to skim over it. “Nothing,” he said, tossing it into the discard box and taking another. After an hour, Zach was clearly tired of his fruitless search. “I can’t find anything worth keeping.”

      “Maybe I should get in the car and go home now. It’s sort of tempting fate to stay.”

      “You made a decision to stay. If you were going you should have left hours ago. You made your decision, so stick with it. If you leave now, you could get caught if the storm comes in early. You’d be in the snow in the dark. Not a good combination. Just stay.”

      Stay, she’d have to.

      On Friday the storm arrived as predicted, the first big flakes falling late morning. Emma went to the window. “Zach, this is beautiful. I have to go outside to look.” She left the office and went out the back to the patio to stand and watch huge flakes swirling and tumbling to earth. She stuck out her tongue, letting an icy flake melt in her mouth. She also held up her palm, watching for the briefest second as a beautiful flake hit her and then transformed into a drop of icy water.

      In seconds she heard the door and glanced around to see Zach hurrying outside with a blanket tossed around his shoulders.

      “I thought you might be cold,” he said, shaking it so it was around her and over her head as well as covering him. With his arm around her shoulders, he held the blanket in place. Shivering, she pressed closer, relishing the cozy warmth of Zach beside her.

      “Isn’t this beautiful! I love the snow. It would be fun to have a white Christmas if it didn’t keep people from their families.”

      “Your family will probably build snow forts and snowmen this weekend.”

      She smiled. “Our yard will be filled with snow sculptures, bunnies, snow dogs, forts, tons of snowballs, snowmen. Our local paper came out one year and took pictures. We have sleds and everyone will go sledding if they can.”

      “I guess in their own way, your family really enjoys life.”

      “In the best way possible, they enjoy life,” she said, looking up at him. “Okay, I’m ready to go back in.” She tossed the blanket over his shoulder and dashed for the back door, feeling her cascade of hair swing as she ran.

      Inside she stomped her feet to get the snow off and wiped her shoes on the mat. Zach appeared and did the same, best he could with his still-injured foot. “Want coffee, tea or hot chocolate to take back to the office?”

      “Sure, hot chocolate.”

      In minutes she had a mug and was at her desk, concentrating on work and trying to forget about Zach and how he had looked with big snowflakes in his thick brown hair and on his eyelashes.

      “Emma,” Zach interrupted her during the afternoon. “Look outside now.”

      She had been concentrating on work and forgotten the snow. The wind had picked up and when she glanced out, she gasped.

      Snow was “falling” horizontally and the entire world was white. Everything in sight was buried in snow except the tall trees that were dark shadows as a blizzard raged.

      “I didn’t notice. Oh, my word. I’m glad I didn’t get caught out in that.” She walked to the window and heard him coming to join her. Once again he draped his arm lightly across her shoulders.

      “Tomorrow night, we’ll have our fancy steak dinners.