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up in an affair with him, and then she’d never find the kind of man she really needed and wanted, someone she could care for in an easy, detached manner, someone who would be good not only for her, but for her children. If not Lorne Cantrell, then someone very much like him.
    “It will, you know,” he said, and bent to brush her lips softly with his. “We won’t be able to stop it now. Either of us.” She jerked back, covering her mouth with one hand, her eyes wide and stormy.
    “Don’t!” she said. “I thought I had made myself clear. I do not want that from you.”
    “Don’t lie to me, Sharon,” he said with a slow, sexy smile that turned her inside out. “And above all, don’t lie to yourself.”
    She turned and left the entry where they had been secluded. She could feel him close behind her, then the kids saw him and he crouched to hug Roxy and place an affectionate hand over Jason’s head.
    “Open them, go ahead,” he urged, once he’d given the children their gifts.
    Jason looked sorrowful. “But we don’t have anything for you, Marc.”
    Over Jason’s head, Marc’s gaze met Sharon’s. “I’ve already had all I want for Christmas this year.” He smiled at the boy who was looking down into a box of huge homemade chocolate chip cookies.
    “Wow!” Jason’s eyes were wide. “Did you make these?”
    “I did. I hope you like them.”
    “Love them!” Turning to his mother, he said, “Can I have one now?”
    She nodded.
    Roxy found cookies in her package as well, big thick ones, crescents filled with raspberry jam. Her eyes closed in bliss as she bit into one and chewed, a look of delight on her piquant face. “How come a daddy can make cookies?” she asked.
    “I like baking cookies,” Marc said. Then he asked Sharon, “Aren’t you going to open yours?”
    “Oh!” She had forgotten she held it in her hand. “Of course. But come in, sit down. You remember Harry McKenzie, I’m sure.”
    “What a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Duval. Sharon mentioned that you’d be joining us. I’ve been delegated as bartender this evening. What can I get for you while we wait for dinner?”
    “A cola would be fine, Mr. McKenzie. Thanks.”
    “Harry.”
    “Right. And I’m Marc.” He sat beside Sharon on the sofa and watched as eagerly as her children while she undid the wrapping, with care and revealed a beautiful, polished shell about three inches long. It was a delicate shade of pinkish gray, with deeper violet spots on the ribs of its whorls.
    “Oh …” It was a small sound of pure pleasure, and it warmed Marc right through, as did the shine of the gaze she lifted to him. “Thank you. It’s the most beautiful shell I’ve ever seen. Where did you find it?” She couldn’t have said how she knew he hadn’t bought it in a store, but something about his manner told her that he had picked up this one himself in his travels and had kept it because he liked it. And now he had given it to her.
    “I was diving off a little island near Oahu,” he said. “They live quite deep as a rule, so I was lucky to find this one in about sixty feet of water.”
    She picked it up and cradled it in her hand, brushing one finger over the satin-smooth texture of its inner surface. “Thank you, Marc. You couldn’t have thought of anything I’d have liked better. Do you know what it’s called?”
    He smiled, so delighted she liked his gift that he wanted to crush her in his arms and kiss her until they were both out of breath but not with an audience present. “I think it’s a harp shell.” He accepted a glass of iced cola from Harry without taking his eyes from Sharon’s glowing face. How long they might have sat there just looking at each other, saying potent and silent things, Sharon had no idea, but fortunately they were interrupted.
    “Hello, Marc. How nice to see you.” Zinnie came from the kitchen, and he stood quickly, only sitting again when she’d perched on the arm of the sofa.