His Holiday Heart by Jillian Hart

Author:Jillian Hart [Hart, Jillian]
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2010-01-15T15:37:58+00:00

Chapter Nine

She could see him plainly through the windshield. He was the only man she knew who could frown like that and still look gorgeous. Maybe it was the thick fall of his brown hair that softened his harsh features or the rugged, striking cut of his face. Maybe it was his masculine presence that radiated goodness and decency. Whatever it was, she should not be noticing.

His door swung open and he climbed out. He was going to come to the door. Of course, that only made sense, but suddenly it was a reality. She was going to have to open the door and face him. Like this. Yikes! Her reflection in the glass wall of windows stared back at her.

She groaned. I look like a bag lady, she thought, cringing. She wore her glasses instead of her contacts. She had pulled her hair back in a ponytail, and who knew what it was doing? It was probably sticking straight out. Her gray sweats were baggy and had a hole in one knee. They were her most comfy writing pants, and it wasn’t as if anyone was around to see her…usually.

Why did it have to be Spence? What she would give for time to change. She dashed through the house flicking on lights. Since she hadn’t closed the blinds yet, she had a perfect view of him striding with athletic grace up the front steps. He was carrying something—she couldn’t seem to focus on it. It was the look he wore that drew and kept her attention like a supercharged magnet. He wasn’t scowling any longer. He wasn’t frowning. She didn’t think she had ever seen that expression on his face before. It was a little like kindness.

Oh, no. She skidded to a stop, heart pounding with dread. She could handle his frown. She was prepared for his scowling demeanor. She could even take the troubled Spence she had seen earlier today. But a kind Spence McKaslin was something she couldn’t handle. Was it too late to pretend she wasn’t home?

He rapped on the window—not the door. Startled out of her thoughts, she realized he had spotted her. Too late. There was nothing left to do but face the music and Spence McKaslin. She watched him nod and point toward her door.

She nodded. Yes, she would let him in. She dragged her feet forward. The worst had already happened. Not only did he know about the sorest spot in her soul, something terribly private and painful, but he had seen her like this. At least it couldn’t get worse. She said a quick prayer, braced herself and opened the door.

“Sorry to drop by like this.” The big man towered politely on her doorstep with a baby Christmas tree tucked in one arm and a file folder clutched in his other hand. “I needed to say something to you, and I didn’t want to say it over the phone.”

Icy air breezed right through her and she shivered. It was too cold to make him stand outside.

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