He wondered if he would ever see any of them again. Most specifically, he wondered if he would ever see Lucy again.

Sure, she had said she might stop by again sometime. But he wondered if she would still feel the same way after a few days away from him, back with her family. Once the rosy, romantic glow of their holiday adventure had worn off, she would probably see him more clearly, and perhaps wonder what she had briefly seen in the reclusive, divorced woodworker who couldn't even maintain a close relationship with his own family members.

He shook his head impatiently and moved toward the Christmas tree. Might as well get rid of all this stuff now that everyone was gone. He still had a few packages to open in his bedroom-the usual shirts, books and food gifts from his family. He had mailed his customary gifts to them-Internet-ordered gift certificates for everyone. Easy, efficient, and guaranteed to fit.

Maybe he would warm some apple cider in a little while and drink it in front of the fire, he decided. The perfect Christmas celebration, in his opinion. Just himself and his faithful dog enjoying the peace and quiet together, as he had intended when he had declined his parents' invitations to spend the holidays with them.

When he looked around the room this time, those echo images of his guests were gone. Except for Lucy. Something told him he would be seeing her in his mind for quite some time.

“So tell me about this man who opened his home to a group of stranded travelers,” Janie McDonald urged Lucy late Christmas evening. “What was he like?”

The two women had escaped to Janie's sitting room while Janie's husband and Lucy's father sat in front of the big-screen TV in the den to watch a war-themed DVD one of them had received as a gift. Janie had decorated her room as a feminine retreat, with thick-cushioned love seats and rockers, bookshelves filled with fiction and knickknacks, a small-screened TV and a sizable collection of classic movies.

A big basket beside Janie's favorite chair was stuffed with crocheting supplies for the thick, warm afghans Janie crafted while she watched those films. The multicolored skeins of yarn reminded Lucy of Miss Annie.

But it had been Banner that her aunt had asked about, she reminded herself. How on earth could she describe Banner?

“He's interesting,” she said, then shook her head at the inadequacy of the adjective. “He's a very talented woodworker who makes beautiful furniture. He has an understated sense of humor that's not always readily apparent, and he's much nicer and kinder than he gives himself credit for. He thinks of himself as a misfit, a bit of an outsider-because his parents and stepparents have made him feel that way, I think. He lacks confidence in himself and his people skills, but he really isn't the loner he tries to convince everyone, including himself, that he is.”

“He does sound interesting,” Janie murmured, studying Lucy speculatively. “How old did you say he is?”

“He'll be thirty-one on April third.”

“Sounds as if you got to know him fairly well in a short time.”

Remembering several heated kisses, Lucy had to make a determined effort not to blush. “There wasn't much to do except talk,” she said evasively. “With the electricity out and all, I mean.”

“You said he was a nice-looking young man?”

“I didn't say what he looked like,” Lucy corrected, not being fooled for a moment.

“But he is nice looking?”

“He's gorgeous,” Lucy admitted with a sigh. “Pretty enough to frame and hang on a wall.”

Janie laughed. “He sounds more interesting all the time. Are you going to see him again?”

“Absolutely.” After all, Banner had left that choice open, she reminded herself with characteristic optimism.

“Sounds promising.”

“Definite potential,” Lucy agreed. “But the man is skittish.”

Janie waved a hand in dismissal. “Honey, they all are.”

“Yes, but trust me, this one's the champ.”

Her aunt shrugged. “That just means you have to be a bit more persistent-or devious, as the need might be.”

Lucy laughed. “As much as I appreciate the confidence you show in me, I wouldn't be planning any wedding showers yet. As determined as I can be when I set my mind to something, I'm not sure even I'm a match for Richard Merchant Banner.”

Janie only smiled at the niece she had raised as her own daughter for so many years. “If it comes down to a battle of wills between you and this Richard Banner, my money is on you.”

Lucy wasn't making any bets herself. But it was nice to know she had at least one supporter firmly in her corner.

Banner woke to the rumble of central heating on the morning after Christmas. An overhead light burned directly into his eyes when he opened them. In the background he could hear the hum of his refrigerator and the other electric appliances that provided the generally unnoticed noise of modern life. They sounded unnaturally loud after the absolute silence.

Yawning, he rolled over in his sleeping bag, dislodging Hulk, who had been sleeping with his head on Banner's stomach. Even though his bedroom had been free, Banner had slept in the living room again last night. He just hadn't been in the mood to sleep alone in his big bed.

He had taken down all the Christmas decorations before turning in, so his house looked normal again. He wondered how long it would be until he felt the same as he had before meeting Lucy.

She had been his last thought before falling asleep, and his first upon awakening this morning. How could someone who had been in his life less than forty-eight hours have made such a powerful impact on him?

Because the house seemed unusually quiet, even with the appliances making their sounds, he turned on the television for noise while he cooked and ate breakfast. He was going to have to make a grocery run this afternoon to replenish his supplies, he thought with a glance into his nearly empty pantry. And then he intended to lose himself in his work, keeping himself too busy to think and too tired to lie awake that night mentally replaying ill-advised kisses.

Four-month-old Nicolas McDonald kicked happily in Lucy's arms, his wet, toothless baby smile making her melt in response. She leaned over to nuzzle his chubby cheeks, which gave him the perfect opportunity to grab a fistful of her red curls.

Carefully disentangling herself, she wrinkled her nose at him. “You are adorable,” she said.

He gurgled in smug agreement.

This was her cousin Tony's youngest child, and Lucy was crazy about him-as she was his three-year-old sister and their eight-and six-year-old cousins. She had always loved children. Never in her life had she considered that she wouldn't have any of her own, though motherhood had been one of her back-burner goals, something that could wait while she pursued her education. Now that her twenties were slipping so quickly away from her, she was becoming more aware of passing time.

Oh, sure, she was still quite young. She knew plenty of women who were putting childbearing off until their thirties, even beyond. But Lucy felt that she was at a prime point now, both physically and emotionally.

Sure, she could have a child on her own, do the single-mother thing-and she had no doubt that she could be good at the role. But she wanted it all-husband, partner, children, dog and picket fence. And Lucy had never been content to settle for less than everything she wanted.

“You're so good with children,” Tony's wife, Hannah, said, as she watched Lucy play with the baby. “I've always wondered why you chose to be at the university instead of teaching younger children.”

“Because I prefer the university setting,” Lucy replied.

“I like discussing mathematics on a higher level. That doesn't take away from my enjoyment of children, though.”

“So, are you seeing anyone special?”

Lucy wondered if Hannah's ultracasual tone was intended to make the segue less obvious. If so, it didn't work. Hannah was obviously wondering if Lucy had prospects for marriage and children of her own.

Hearing the echo of her own thoughts made Lucy clear her throat and keep her gaze focused on the baby. “Not at the moment.”

She had no intention, of course, of mentioning the new name at the top of her list. But that didn't mean she wasn't thinking of him as she continued to play with her cousin's tiny son.

Banner found the money hidden in his bread box when he was putting away the supplies he'd bought that afternoon. The bills had been tucked into a folded sheet of white paper. Frowning, he spread the page to study the neatly slanted handwriting, which he knew instinctively belonged to Lucy, even though there was no signature.

“Banner,” the note said, “your kindness and your hospitality have made this a very special Christmas for all of your guests. None of us will ever forget you. Thank you.”

He sighed as he looked at the money. He had told them not to do this. It wasn't as if he couldn't afford to feed a few houseguests for a couple of days-even though it wasn't something he did very often. Okay, ever.

Kindness and hospitality. He gave a short, humorless laugh. Wouldn't his family be surprised to read those words in connection with him? None of them would have believed he knew how to offer either one.

He found himself tracing the letters of his name, imagining Lucy writing them. “None of us will ever forget you,” she had said.

He was rather afraid that he would never be able to forget her, either.

“So, how's my little girl?” Major Les Guerin asked as he and Lucy wandered arm and arm down Janie's winding garden path. The garden was dormant for winter, but bird baths and feeders provided entertainment as a variety of birds scrambled for the best seeds.