Rescued by his Christmas Angel Read Free Page B

wears hiking boots with skirts, Mr. Hathoway! Haven’t you noticed that?”
    He said that word again, and something besides hardness flickered in those eyes again. It was worse than the hardness. Pain so deep it was like a bottomless pool.
    â€œI guess I didn’t notice,” he said, the warrior stance shifting ever so slightly, something defeated in his voice.
    â€œAce could have said something.”
    â€œShe seems to think if she asks nothing of you, she’s protecting you in some way.”
    The smallest hint of a smile tickled across lips that had the potential to be so sexy they could make a woman’s heart stop. “She is protecting me in some way. Grocery shopping is tough enough. I have to go out of town for groceries to avoid recipe exchanges with well-meaning neighbors.”
    Whom, Morgan was willing to guess, were mostly female. And available. She could easily imagine him being swarmed at a market in a small town where everyone would know his history. Wife killed, nearlytwo years ago, Christmas Eve car accident. Widower. Single dad .
    â€œThe girl’s department is impossible,” he went on grimly. “A sea of pink. Women everywhere. Frills.” He said that word again, softly, with pained remembrance shadowing his eyes. He shook his head. “I don’t do shopping,” he said again, firmly, resolutely.
    â€œI’d be happy to take her shopping.”
    It was the type of offer that would have Mary Beth rolling her eyes. It was the type of offer that probably made Morgan’s insanity certifiable. Could she tangle her life with those of the Hathoways without dancing with something very powerful and possibly not tamable?
    But whatever brief humanity had touched Nate’s features it was doused as carelessly as he had plunged that red-hot metal into water.
    â€œI don’t do pity, either.”
    Good, Morgan congratulated herself. She had done her best. She should leave now, while her dignity was somewhat in tact. Mary Beth would approve if she left without saying another single word.
    Naturally, she didn’t.
    â€œIt’s not pity. I happen to love shopping. I can’t think of anything I would consider more fun than taking Cecilia on a shopping excursion.”

CHAPTER TWO
    I CAN’T THINK of anything I would consider more fun than taking Cecilia on a shopping excursion.
    Mary Beth is going to think I’m crazy, Morgan thought.
    Plus, standing here in such close proximity to his lips, she could think of one thing that would be quite a bit more fun than taking Cecilia on a shopping excursion. Or maybe two .
    â€œI’ll look after it,” Nate Hathoway said, coolly adding with formal politeness, “thanks for dropping in, Miss McGuire.”
    And then he dismissed her, strode back across his workshop and turned his back to her, faced the fire. He was instantly engrossed in whatever he was doing.
    Morgan stared at him, but instead of leaving, she marched over to one of the bins just inside the front door. It contained coat hooks, in black wrought iron.
    She picked up a pair, loved the substance of them in her hands. In a world where everything was transient, everything was meant to be enjoyed for a short while and then replaced—like her purple sofa—the coat hooks felt as if they were made to last forever.
    Not a word a newly independent woman wantedto be thinking of anywhere in the vicinity of Nate Hathoway.
    Still, his work with the black iron was incredible, flawless. The metal was so smooth it might have been silk. The curve of the hanger seemed impossibly delicate. How had he wrought this from something as inflexible as iron?
    â€œI’ll trade you,” Morgan said on an impulse.
    He turned and looked at her.
    â€œMy time with your daughter for some of your workmanship.” She held up the pair of coat hooks.
    She could already picture them hanging inside her front door, she already felt as if she had to have