She moved Matt to the side of her, sat up and leaned over to look him straight in the eyes. “Here's how it is between you and me. I'll always be your mom, and you'll always be my baby, even when you're grown and have a family of your own. There's nothing wrong with the word baby. It means you're my child and very special to me.” She swallowed hard. “If childish means having pillow fights, sleepovers, making s'mores late at night, eating popcorn in bed, and watching videos together-sounds perfect to me."

He smiled up at her. “Me, too."

She lay back down and his head dropped back onto her shoulder. “What else did your dad say?"

“We'll be living with him soon."

She clenched her jaw. “He shouldn't have said that. You and me, we're the Two-Musketeers. It's important for you to see your dad, but that doesn't automatically mean we're going to live with him again.” She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Are you okay with that?"

He reached around her neck and hugged her. “Yes."

“Are you sure?” she asked rubbing his back.

“I'm sure,” he whispered.

Katherine sighed, relieved her decision to discourage Paul would not hurt Matt. “We're going to have the best Christmas."

He nodded.

She tickled him and he giggled. “It's Tuesday and you know what happens tonight."

“Tree-trimming!” He rolled away from her and jumped from the bed. “I gotta eat my breakfast, hurry and dress, and find Mr. Randall. We're wrapping presents, and we're gonna put ‘em under the tree after it's decorated tonight."

She laid out Matt's clothes. “Sounds positively childish to me,” she teased, hoping the negative word now held a positive spin.

He reached his hand out with an ‘all right with the world’ grin. “Come on, Mom. We got a lot of fun things to do today."


* * * *

That night, Katherine faced a full-length mirror and slid her stocking feet into red suede heels. She liked dressing up for the party in her sleigh scene sweater. The slit up the back of her skirt revealed cheerful green Christmas trees on the pleats when she walked.

A light rap on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Come in."

Matt entered, sporting navy blue pants and a snowman sweater. He walked around her, looking at her outfit and nodding, his chin thrust out in a distinctly adult-and charming-manner. “I agree with Mr. Randall."

“About what?” she asked, putting on her earrings. Turning, she adjusted the red ribbon running through her French braid.

“You're beautiful."

Her hand froze, leaving the tube of lipstick hovering an inch above her lips. She turned and looked down at him. “That's one of the nicest things you've ever said to me.” She finished applying her lipstick, trying to keep the tremor out of her hand. “Mr. Randall said I'm beautiful?"

Matt nodded. “Sure did.” He toed the carpet with his boots. “Where's Dad?"

“He went to the filling station for ice. The sodas are iced down in the cooler, but we needed a couple more bags."

“Oh.” He paused. “Can I have a cookie?"

“Of course. They're on a tray in the entryway."

Katherine followed Matt down the stairs to finish last minute decorations, hoping the house would be big enough tonight for Paul and Jared to coexist peacefully. Her mother and she had taken steps to ensure it, but that didn't guarantee their plan would work. Both men needed to cooperate.

She passed under a brightly-lit swag of garland taped above the archway and entered the living room. Pausing, she turned in a full circle and inhaled the pungent scent of evergreen, cranberry candles and fresh pine. Smells that uniquely said Christmas.

Dropping her gaze from the decorated mantle, her thoughts returned to the two men who needed to cooperate for the night to go well, neither of whom seemed like team players.

Well, she decided heading toward the kitchen where she could hear her mother's voice, she would simply have to talk to Jared. First, about her plans to keep peace tonight. About his irksome need to rescue her. Letting him know she did not require his help might ease some of the tension. She hoped Jared would listen.


* * * *

Seven right on the dot. Jared parked his Lexus in front of Grace's house. He grabbed the pie from the passenger's seat, walked to the entrance, and rang the doorbell.

“Coming,” Katherine shouted as the door swung open. Off-key voices sung the refrains of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” as the stereo played softly in the background. Laughter and snippets of conversations drifted out into a magical night adorned with blinking candy-cane lights.

His heart sputtered an extra beat.

“Hi. Come on in,” she said with a cheerful smile. She reached and grabbed the dessert from his hands. “If it's something chocolate, I've got first dibs on it-two servings."

He forgot to breathe.

Her long dangling snowflake earrings flashed, drawing his undivided attention to her lush red mouth. He loved red-in any shade-especially her fire engine, hot red lips. “It's a pie,” he croaked. He came to his senses and found her hand on his elbow steering him into the house.

“I think you know everyone,” she said, pointing to the sea of neighbors. A few people turned and shouted, waving hello. Some raised glasses and whistled between their teeth to get his attention. He reciprocated the cheerful greetings with a slightly distracted smile and wave, still disconcerted by his first glimpse of Katherine tonight. She was absolutely stunning, glowing with Christmas cheer, and practically irresistible.

This thought returned his attention to the moment and he scanned the crowd, searching the faces, but he didn't see lover-boy, Paul. Good. He did see Grace, who winked at him, or maybe at Katherine, who still stood beside him, hand extended to take his coat. Smiling down at her, he began shrugging out of it. He turned and winked back at Grace. Thomas stood beside her, a miserable look on his face.

About the time his gaze traversed the faces again, he noticed Grace streak from the room like vapor.

Katherine touched him on the arm and he looked into a teasing jade pool. “You trying for a new fashion statement? I've heard of one shoe on and one shoe off, but never one sleeve."

He glanced down and stood half-in, half-out of his coat. One side dragged the floor. “Think it'll catch on?” he asked, arching a brow and removing the other side. “Just show me where to put it. I wouldn't want you to drop my pie."

Turning, she crooked her little finger and motioned. “Follow me into the bedroom."

Bedroom! Taking a steadying breath, he clutched the coat and trudged along behind her. He willed the rising heat to recede as her hips swayed in front of him.

From the bedroom doorway, he tossed his coat on the pile before he and Katherine turned to thread their way to the buffet table.

She removed his chocolate delight and shoved the empty box under the table. The pie wound up in the middle of dessert heaven. It's a wonder the table didn't buckle from the calories in that section alone, he thought. “You expecting a famine?"

She chuckled. “If it comes, we're certainly prepared.” Her eyes glanced his way. “I like your shirt and Santa tie. You look good in that deep shade of green."

He reached out and flicked one of her snowflake earrings. “As long as we're throwing compliments around, your outfit's pretty spectacular. You look tempting as sin in red."

“You gotta watch out about sin,” Reverend Whittaker remarked with a wink and a smile as he walked by.

Color crept up Katherine's neck until her face matched her sweater. She punched him in the ribs. “I swear, I can't take you anywhere in public."

He moved closer, smiling as her eyes widened, all dewy and innocent. “I'm at my best when I'm not in public."

Not missing a heartbeat, she shook her head and slid her hand through the crook of his arm. With her best Texas drawl, she said, “We'll have to work on your manners,” and escorted him from the dining room to the living room.

He chuckled. “I'm willing."

Every nook and corner held boxes of decorations for the tree. He envied Katherine, growing up surrounded with all these family traditions and so much love. She stayed close to his side and made him feel right at home.

“I like the fireplace.” He pointed to a wreath hanging on the wall. Directly below that, trains and lighted Swiss chalets nestled in cotton matting on the mantel. Poinsettias rimmed the outer border of the white marble floor. The scent of oak filled the room from a wood fire burning behind a mesh screen.

“I hope you don't mind, but I promised the kids you'd help them make strings for the tree,” she said, releasing his arm and angling him a sideways glance. She was smiling.

He dragged his gaze from the crimson curve of her lips. “Strings?"

She laughed. “You'll see.” Taking his arm again, she led him up the stairs and into a large carpeted game room. Card tables containing bowls of popcorn and fresh cranberries lined the floor. Seven noisy boys and girls inhabited various chairs around the tables.

Matt looked up from the cluster of chattering children. Seeing them, a grin stretched out from ear to ear. His hand shot up, waving wildly. “Mr. Randall! I saved you a place.” He patted the empty chair beside him. Glancing over at his mother with a tolerant smile, he tried to allay her concern by saying, “Don't worry, Mom. I'll show him what to do."

Jared sat down amid the circle of bright-eyed children and warily picked up a large, rounded needle with a long trailing length of string. He cast an even more wary glance at the eager faces staring back at him. What was he supposed to do?

Matt was as good as his word, although Jared never would have dreamed it. Within five seconds, he was threading popcorn and cranberries onto strings like an old hand.