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Sara's, full of humor too, and the joy of being with his daughter. "I hope Mary didn't railroad you into this?"
    "I offered."
    "So, she charmed you, did she?" A grin tugged at one side of his cheek, lopsided and charming.
    "Just a little bit." My, but he was a handsome man, all dressed in black, from his hat to his wool jacket to his polished boots. "Any news on the train?"
    "Still snowed in." Gabe swept off his hat. "The hotel's still full up. I wish I could offer better news."
    Her heart hammered. How could she spend another night in Connie's home? "Maybe the boardinghouse...?"
    "What? You don't like staying with me?" Connie crunched on the last of her peppermint stick. "Or was my cooking that bad?"
    "No, it's just that I"—her gaze fell to Mary—"can't impose. Christmas is almost here, and your family—"
    "Would be honored to have such a lovely guest." Gabe stepped into the light, and there was no mistaking his honesty.
    "That's right," Connie agreed. "You could just pretend we're family for as long as it takes for that train to get here. We have yet to decorate the Christmas tree and finish our shopping and, oh, help with the Christmas boxes for the needy—"
    "And don't forget the Christmas pageant," Mary spoke up as she twirled round and round, her full red skirt flaring. "I want Sara to see me sing."
    "There's a thrill she won't want to miss." Gabe winked, and Sara felt the impact of his lopsided grin across the narrow aisle. "I'm going to leave you ladies to shop and check back with you later."
    "He's good for hauling our packages home," Connie confided. "And for buying three lovely ladies dinner."
    "I heard the hint." Good humored, Gabe offered Sara his hand, palm up.
    She laid her smaller hand on his, felt the male-hot texture of his skin, rough and callused, but pleasant, saw deep in his eyes a longing she understood too well.
    "If you truly want me to find other accommodations, I can." He said the words low so that Mary and Connie, their heads bent over the lace goods, couldn't hear. "We want you to stay right where you are. With our family."
    Her heart turned over and plummeted all the way down to her toes. No man had ever looked at her this way; no man had ever made her ache quite the way Gabe did.
    "I'll stay where I am." Emotion ached in her throat.
    "If the weather holds, we'll see the train in the morning."
    In the morning. Sara had never dreamed for so much, this time spent with her daughter. "That will give me plenty of time to sew on that collar."
    "Just the collar, huh?" Gabe's eyes laughed, such a dazzling shade of blue. "You don't know Mary. There's a word you need to learn if you spend any time around her at all. And it's the word no."
    "I bet it's a word she doesn't hear often." Sara watched as Mary held a delicate collar up to the dress's neckline.
    "Thank you, Sara." Gabe released her hand, stepping back, and the air suddenly felt colder.
    "It's my pleasure."
    He strode away, and she could not tear her gaze from the line of his rock-hewn shoulders, not until he disappeared from her sight. But the way he made her feel, warm and treasured, remained.

Chapter Four

    It was the light in Sara's eyes that drew his gaze back every time he looked down at his plate to cut his steak or over at Mary while she spoke of their adventures in shopping. Back to the shimmer of Sara's blue eyes, like sunlight on water, and the way happiness seemed to fill her, changing her face from pretty to beautiful.
    The tinkling din of happy voices in the diner, the beaming joy on his daughter's face, the street beyond the sparkling window with its white streets and colorful shops faded to silent gray when Sara leaned forward to answer Connie's question.
    "No, my father thought wrapped gifts and decorated trees frivolous." She toyed with her fork, bowing her chin, and dark curls fell around her face. "When she was alive, my mother would hang stockings for us above the hearth for Santa to fill with candy and pennies."
    "I don't