A Home for Christmas Read Free Page A

of indifference. “Mother wouldn't allow me to wear it. She said it was the ugliest thing she'd ever seen. When we arrived back at home, she took it from me and threw it away.”
    “That's cruel!” The words were out before he could stop them.
    A slight smile lifted the corner of her luscious mouth. “I sneaked out that night and rummaged through the garbage until I found it. I took it up to my bathroom, washed it out, and hid it in my closet to dry. I still have it.”
    “Good for you.”
    “Finished.”
    He hadn't noticed that while she spoke, she had arranged the lights she'd been untangling into a neat circle at her feet. “Well, there's plenty more where that came from.” He tipped his head toward the pile in front of the bay window.
    She stared at it a moment, considering.
    “Or you could string those you just did around those bushes there in front of the porch.”
    “I don't know how,” she admitted.
    Finished with his task, he backed down the ladder and said, “I'll let you in on the secret of putting out Christmas lights if you promise you won't tell anyone.”
    She stood as he approached. “Cross my heart.”
    He looked over his shoulder as if making sure no one eavesdropped on the quiet, tree-lined street. “There's no real method to it. You just throw 'em on there, plug 'em in, then spread 'em out so the lights aren't too bunched up in any one spot.”
    She nodded, a mock-serious look etching her lovely features. “I had no idea.”
    He bent to pick up the lights at her feet then took her hand and led her to the boxwoods. “Well, it's top secret. If you tell anyone, I'll have to shoot you.”
    Janice laughed and smiled up at him. He now knew how it felt to be pole-axed. Lord, she was stunning.
    With fingers that felt like five thumbs, he grabbed the plug at the end of the lights and said, “We'll drop this here in back so it'll be easy to get to.”
    “Where's your family?” she asked as she, despite his instructions, methodically wrapped the lights around the first bush.
    He frowned. “In their homes doing the kind of stuff families do on Saturdays, I guess.”
    “Oh.” She seemed surprised. “You live here alone?”
    “Yep. Just me and the mice.” He smiled. “They're too smart for traps. I'm in desperate need of a cat.”
    “It's an awfully large place for just one person.”
    He leaned an arm against the porch railing as he watched her move to the next bush. “Well, I hope to fill it up with about half a dozen kids some day.”
    There was that surprised look again, except this one held an element of shock. “Do you have someone lined up to supply those for you? Or were you planning to adopt?”
    “Well,” he rubbed the stubble lining his chin wishing he'd shaved, “I'd like to fall head over heels in love first. Then get married. You know, manage it the old-fashioned way.”
    She didn't comment or look up at him, and he wondered . . . ”How 'bout you? Do you have kids?”
    “No.”
    He wanted to ask about a husband, but figured that would be too forward. She didn't wear a wedding band or engagement ring. That was encouraging, but she could be one of those modern types who didn't go for the sort of relationship where the woman wore her man's ring and took his name.
    “I guess being a doctor keeps you pretty busy.” Probably too busy for a relationship of any kind. He thought of Doc Prescott, the town's doctor. He'd never married. Doctors had a lot of demands on their time.
    “Yes,” she agreed, still working at the lights.
    “What's your specialty?”
    “I'm an internist. Finished.”
    He'd been watching her face again and not paying any attention to her task. “Great.” He straightened away from the railing. “Let's plug 'em in.”
    Stepping up onto the porch, he retrieved a long, green extension cord, plugged it into a receptacle, and unwound it as he carried it down to the bushes. He found the end of the cord and plugged in the lights. The miniature, multicolored