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  Flo shook her head. “I think you’re a bigger part of Christmas than you know, Jessica.” She took the empty mug, put it in the sink. “Think about it. Now, do you want to walk over with me?”

  “I should…” The wall clock read five till seven. Two hours until her flight. The airport was only twenty minutes away. Technically she did have the time to swing by the Winterfest, maybe say hello to a few friends, before heading out of town.

  Uh-huh. That was exactly why she wanted to go over there.

  Not because of the curiosity that had built inside her all afternoon, wondering what C. J. Hamilton had up his sleeves.

  And why he hadn’t at least come by to see her. Where he’d been all day. Moreover, why she’d missed him so much her thoughts had been more on him than Christmas, white sandy beaches—or anything else.

  “Sure,” Jessica said, sliding off the stool and slipping back into her coat. “Let’s go over and see if…uh, see the Winterfest.”

  Flo shot her a smile that seemed almost conspiratorial, then grabbed her own coat, flipped the sign to Closed and added a little clock saying she’d be back in fifteen minutes, then locked up the coffee shop. The two of them walked down the street and turned the corner that led toward the town park and—

  Complete pandemonium.

  Riverbend’s annual Winterfest was usually fun, but a subdued affair. A few hayrides, an ice-carving contest, hot chocolate served in the bleachers to those listening to the carolers. But what greeted Flo and Jessica this time was the circus version of a Christmas festival.

  The entire town had turned out for the event, with people swarming all over the brightly lit, gaily decorated area. The carolers were backed up by the high school marching band, giving a rousing rendition of “Deck the Halls.”

  A backdrop of dozens and dozens of lighted displays ran a semicircle around the park. Dancing snowman, arced by a Santa, with his fully loaded sleigh, pulled by the eight reindeer, all in twinkling Technicolor. At each end, bright-green lighted Christmas trees were topped by flashing gold stars. But it didn’t stop there.

  A full-size lighted train with rolling wheels simulated by flashing bulbs, followed by two boxcars and even a caboose. A jack-in-the-box, springing up at least nine feet off the ground. Another Santa, this one driving a banana-yellow Model-T.

  And then there was the live animals. Not just ordinary animals, either. Every single conceivable Christmas-related animal was set up in a mini petting zoo along the right side of the Riverbend Town Park. A camel. Two sheep. A donkey. Jessica half expected the three Magi to come strolling through at any moment.

  “Isn’t C.J. amazing?” Flo whispered in Jessica’s ear. “He did all of this.”

  “My God,” Jessica said. “Are there any lengths this man won’t go to?”

  Flo grinned. “I don’t think so. Like I said, if I wasn’t already married—” She grabbed Jessica’s arms. “Look! Speak of the devil. Here he comes.”

  Speak of the devil, indeed. C. J. Hamilton crossed the snow-covered lawn with a confident stride, a tall, imposing figure of a man. He had a way about him, just in his walk, that drew attention, caught Jessica’s eye and clearly many other women’s. It wasn’t simply that C.J. was a handsome man, more that he had a friendly charm, as he greeted several people in the fifteen or so feet that separated them. As Flo had said, he did know most of the towns-people already by name, and he gave each of them a smile and a friendly phrase or two.

  C. J. Hamilton wasn’t a man who had simply blown into Riverbend like a dandelion seed—no, he’d already planted himself, as surely as the oak that had stood by the town hall for the last hundred years.

  Then, when his blue eyes connected with hers, something hitched in Jessica’s heart, and she realized the roots C.J. had laid went far beyond the town.

  Flo abandoned Jessica, just as C.J. reached them. “You came,” he said. The smile on his face read surprise, and joy.

  “Looks like the entire town did, too.”

  “It’s kind of hard to miss. I think I might have overdone it.”

  “Overdone it?” Jessica waved a hand in a wide circle, gaping at the candy apple vendors, dart games, wooden train playground, all lit like downtown Vegas. “This is the kind of display they could see from space.”

  His grin only widened. “Got your attention, didn’t it?” C.J. reached for her hand and gestured to the right, showing her even more that she had missed. Snowmen cutouts where children could pose for photos. A tree-decorating contest. A group of little girls dressed as angels, joining the carolers. “Wait till you see the miniature wooden villages and the reindeer carousel.”

  “Don’t tell me. With real reindeer?”

  He chuckled. “Nope. We only have one of those, thank goodness, because Dash is a little hard to handle. This carousel is decked out with fake Comets and Rudolphs.”

  She spun around, trying to take it all in, the rainbow of Christmas themes nearly a tidal wave of colors and sounds, sweeping over her with one holiday image after another. “How…where…what…? There aren’t even words to ask where all this came from.”

  “I work in Hollywood, remember?” C.J. said. “I’m in the business of pulling off miracles.”

  “But…this is just…” And then the words did fail her. This wasn’t a Winterfest; it was an Olympic Christmas event. “Are those life-size, moving snowmen?”

  He nodded. “Animatronics. Wait till you see the gingerbread family behind the bandstand.”

  “Gingerbread family?” She was starting to feel faint.

  “Oh, and the dancing Christmas stockings…” C.J. chuckled. “A buddy of mine sent those over. Sounded crazy when he suggested it, but it—”

  “Stop.” She put up her hands. “It’s too much. Way too much. You didn’t have to—”

  “To do what? Throw a huge party for the town? Celebrate Christmas?”

  “This is the Vegas version, C.J., Riverbend doesn’t need a celebration this big. We’re a small town, with small-town expectations.”

  “Why not? What’s wrong with doing it up huge once in a while?” He took her hand again and led her through the center of the park, past the carolers, who had segued into “The Twelve Days of Christmas,” complete with a saxophone solo every time they hit the part about the five golden rings. “Look at the kids, Jessica. Look at how much they’re loving this. This is every child’s dream.”

  And as she looked around, she saw that the children of the town, were, unquestionably, loving the entire event. They were wide-eyed, darting from thing to thing, petting the animals, heading to ride the fake version, then slipping off as soon as the ride stopped and running to marvel at the lights. There was laughter and impromptu bursts of song, the scent of hot mulled cider and warm chocolate chip cookies.

  In the middle of it all there was C.J., watching her response, waiting for her, she knew, to give up her ticket to Miami, to slip into her Mrs. Santa suit and be a part of his winter wonderland.

  “What’s wrong with huge once in a while?” he asked again.

  “You’ll be gone after all this is over. When the kids come back next year, expecting the same thing, all they’ll get is disappointment.”

  “If it’s about the displays or the cutouts, I can leave those behind and—”

  “It’s not just about that.” She threw up her hands and turned away.

  “Then what is it?” When she didn’t respond, he touched her shoulder. “Tell me, Jessica.”

  She drew in a breath, then pivoted, hating that tears had already sprung to her eyes. “My father was a great dad, but he wasn’t so good about holding down a job. He had a temper, and when things would go wrong at work, he’d get mad and invariably that would happen just when we’d have a long cold snap or I’d need new school clothes or the rent was due. And all of our security was gone, like that.” She snapped her fingers. “You can’t just give something huge like that and take it away, C.J., kids depend on you. That’s the number-one rule of parenting.”


  “Oh, Jessica.” He drew her to him, heedless of the crowds around them. “I’m not trying to do anything more than make magic for the kids.”

  His shoulder held comfort and warmth, and as much as she told herself she didn’t need either, Jessica sought both in his arms. “What will happen to all of this when you aren’t here?” she asked, not meaning who would plug in the lights or who would set up the snowman cutouts.

  But what would happen to her. Because she knew, as she held tight to him for one more long second, that Jessica had started to fall for C. J. Hamilton and fall hard.

  And that was what scared her the most.

  She pulled back. He hadn’t answered her question. Because he wouldn’t be here next year or even next week, and they both knew it.

  “Where’s Sarah?” she asked, marveling at how steady her voice sounded even though everything inside her stood on shaky ground.

  She couldn’t tell by the look on C.J.’s face if he was relieved by the change in subject or not. “Hanging out with Cassidy and Abby Stanley. LuAnn’s watching the girls,” he said, pointing to the hot chocolate station, where the babysitter was standing with the trio of first-graders. “Sarah’s, ah, not talking to me right now. She’s still mad at me for kissing Mrs. Claus on the cheek.”

  “I’m sorry about that.”

  He shrugged. “I expected a bumpy road. It’s just one more bump.”

  “Do you want me to speak to her?”

  “No, I’ll handle it. I have to learn to do that anyway, don’t I?” He caught her gaze. “It’s just hard to explain why Daddy was kissing Mrs. Claus.”

  A smile curved across Jessica’s face at the twist on the familiar Christmas song, then the smile widened at the memory of the kiss, and how wonderful it had been. Geez, here she was, flip-flopping like a mackerel on a boat deck, wanting to run from him one second and run to him the next.

  Even though they were surrounded by people and lights and a million busy details, the world seemed to close in on just her and C.J., and she wished for a second that he would kiss her again, right now. And refresh her memory. “If I remember right, I was kissing you, too. So that makes me half at fault.”

  “A mutual mistake?”

  “I wouldn’t call it a mistake…exactly.”

  “Good.” The smile on C.J.’s face lit a fire in Jessica’s gut. Their hands clasped a little firmer, and the distance between them closed a little more.

  A thread extended between them, tightening an already taut connection, weaving an intricate pattern of want and complications, wrapping around a sexual attraction that seemed a constant, swirling tempest.

  She’d been attracted to Dennis, of course, had enjoyed a healthy sex life with her husband, but hadn’t remembered feeling this kind of burning heat every time he looked at her. With Dennis, who had been older than her, their relationship had been one of comfortable shared interests. Dennis had been a tender, compassionate man who had loved her with a quiet easiness.

  He hadn’t been a man who got in front of her and asked the kinds of questions she never even dared to ask herself. Who lived large—

  And dared to ask everyone else to do the same.

  “Let me show you something,” C.J. said. He led her around the bandstand, past the gazebo, down a familiar stone path that Jessica knew by heart.

  “C.J., I told you I didn’t want to—”

  Before she could finish her sentence, C.J. had covered her eyes. “Stop arguing with me and check out your new digs, Mrs. Claus.”

  Then he moved his palm. And showed her a miracle.

  The little cast-off shed she and Dennis had used for “Santa’s Village” had been transformed. Rebuilt, really. It now sported a front porch, a bright-red roof and even green-framed mullioned windows with holly-decorated shutters.

  Beside the house was a five-foot-high wire-and-wood-framed pen, holding a reindeer. A real, live, honest-to-goodness, breathing, hoof-stomping reindeer.

  “C.J., this is over the top.”

  As Jessica and C.J. approached, the reindeer threw up his head, his antlers waving like a spiky halo. “Meet Dash. Your new partner in spreading holiday cheer.”

  “A real reindeer? Don’t you think it’s a little much?” But she reached out a hand all the same and gave Dash a pat. The reindeer wanted none of the attention until C.J. showed her a bag of carrots by the side of the pen and helped her feed one to the hungry animal. “Now, one more thing to see. Inside.”

  She shook her head, knowing what he had planned next. She had a plane ticket in her purse. Plans that were too late to change. Already she was too involved, too wrapped up with him. Too tempted. “I can’t—”

  “Yes, you can.” He led her forward, up the new brick path, pressing on the brass handle and opening the red door to reveal a bright, freshly painted golden room that held a pair of high-backed claw-footed velvet chairs.

  The original chairs. The same ones she and Dennis had sat in for fifteen years, refurbished and buffed to look like new. A sharp pang hit her chest at C.J.’s thoughtfulness and care. The way he’d worked to create the perfect Santa environment because he’d known how important it was to her. Still, her Christmas spirit had deserted her and—

  Then she noticed the last detail.

  The suit. He’d gone and found her suit.

  The familiar red crushed-velvet outfit, framed with faux white fur hung on a padded satin hanger against the wall. Above it, her Mrs. Claus lace-trimmed cap dangled from a hook, while her black lace-up boots waited on the floor below. C.J. had thought of, quite literally, everything. She looked at him, on the verge of tears, moved beyond words. “Oh, C.J. How did you…?”

  “Mindy helped with that,” C.J. explained. “She knows where you keep your extra key and also where you store your suit in the off season. She had it dry-cleaned and everything. All it needs now is the Mrs. Claus to fill it.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but he put up a finger and stopped her.

  “No one else fits it like you do, Jessica. No one else can be Mrs. Claus but you.” He took her hand and led her to the window, then pulled back one of the holly-and-ivy-patterned curtains. “Tell me what you see.”

  “Decorations. A carousel. Snow.”

  “No. Children. A whole lot of children who are waiting for Mrs. Claus. For you.”

  She backed away, drawing her hand out of his grasp. “Believe me, I was never the main attraction. It was always Santa. And without a Santa—”

  “I thought of that, too.” C.J. released her to grab a big white box from the corner. He pulled off the cover, revealing a shiny new Santa suit, wig and beard. “You said you needed a Santa and here’s one right here.”

  She gaped at him. “You’d go that far? To play Santa? Just to give Sarah a good Christmas?”

  “Oh, no, not me. Earl Klein volunteered for the position. I’m strictly a behind-the-scenes kind of guy.”

  The expression on his face told the story—C. J. Hamilton had built the set, written the script, provided the costumes and even hired the actors. Now he expected Jessica to step into the role and carry out the story he envisioned.

  A story that was still lacking one critical element. If it was going to work, it had to be right.

  “Santa’s Village is due to open in five minutes,” C.J. said. “Earl should be here any second. So if you could just slip into—”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “No. I will not let Earl Klein be Santa. He’s a nice man, but he’s not Santa material.”

  “Why not? I met the man. He’s affable, friendly—”

  “And he can’t remember the names of the reindeer, has no gift for storytelling, and wouldn’t be able to point out a single child in this town if you paid him. It takes more than niceness to play Santa. It takes a special quality to be the big guy. You can’t just throw on a red suit and a white beard, let out a couple of ho-ho-hos and be believable.”

  “How hard is it to remember Rudolph, Dasher, Dancer, Pran
cer, Vixen, Donder, Blitzen, Cupid and Comet?” C.J. said. “And to whip up a little fiction about an elf who got a little overzealous with the marshmallow, and that’s why all the teddy bears this year are white?”

  “It’s not that…” Jessica’s voice trailed off. She stared at C.J., seeing the man with new eyes. “Tell me your favorite Christmas memory.”

  “Jessica, we don’t have time for this.” He glanced out the window. “In fact, there’s Earl coming right now. The kids will be here any minute. You need to—”

  “Tell me one memory. Just one.”

  An exasperated sigh whooshed out of him. “I can’t.”

  “It’s not that hard, C.J. Just one.”