Harlequin Holiday Collection - Four Classic Seasonal Novellas

to her. She could feel the impatience in him. In his mind he was already on that plane and headed across the Atlantic…away from her.
    “The museum in Cobh offered a reward for information leading to the recovery of the ax blade,” he told her. “It’s not much, only two hundred euros, but Inspector Fitzgerald promised to make sure it came to you.”
    She nodded her thanks, her throat too tight to speak.
    “And before I forget…” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small package in seasonal paper. “Merry Christmas, Sophie.”
    Her heart aching, she unwrapped a three-CD set of ancient Irish chants.
    “The shopkeeper said the oldest chant was penned about fourteen hundred years ago,” Clint told her with an apologetic grin. “Not exactly Mesolithic, but there’s one in there about Newgrange.”
    This was all Sophie would have of him. She knew it in her heart. Just these few days and a medieval chant that spoke of ancient times.
    “I got you something, too. Nothing grand, but…”
    The keychain was made of braided black leather with a silver ring at one end and a weighted Celtic knot, also in sliver, at the other. She didn’t tell him it was a love knot. She couldn’t, with him so impatient to be away.
    “It’s beautiful. Thank you.” He curled a knuckle under her chin and tipped her face to his. “I’ll be back.”
    “Will y’now?” Swallowing the lump in her throat, she dredged up a saucy tone. “And when will that be, me boyo?”
    “As soon as I can.”

    The week between Christmas and New Year was one of the loneliest of Sophie’s life. The colored lights in the shop windows seemed to mock her. The empty quad at Trinity College echoed her footsteps when she went to the library. Even the Bull and Crown was quiet, with most of the students gone for the holidays and only a handful of tourists hardy enough to brave the icy streets.
    Clint e-mailed her twice. Once the morning after his return to the States to say Nola Atwood was singing like a canary on steroids. And then again the following day to let her know he wouldn’t be able to communicate for a while.
    She interpreted that to mean he was going undercover and worried nonstop that the vicious drug lord he was after might see through his disguise. The fear congealed into a hard lump she carried around for the rest of that week.
    It was still with her on New Year’s Eve, when the entire pub emptied and the patrons headed to Christ Church for the ringing of the bells. The owner, Mick, tried to shoo Sophie out with them.
    “Aren’t you going t’hear the bells?”
    “No, Mick. You go. I’ll mind the pub.”
    “Are y’sure?”
    “I’m sure.”
    Sophie tried to numb the ache around her heart by keeping busy. As the chimes began to sound, faint and clear in the distance, she ducked behind the counter to set up rows of glasses for the patrons who would return eager to toast the New Year.
    “Auch, it’s a bloody fool I am,” she muttered as the pub door opened and a late customer entered on a blast of cold air and pealing bells. “What was I about, fallin’ in love with a great glom I’ll probably nivir see again?”
    She swiped her hands on her apron and turned to tend to the customer, only to find him grinning at her.
    “A great glom, am I?”
    Stunned, she gaped at him. If she’d passed him on the street, she wouldn’t have recognized him! A week’s worth of dark whiskers stubbled his cheeks and chin. His eyes were rimmed with red, and a vicious bruise mottled one side of his face, but triumph radiated from every bone in his body.
    “We got him, Sophie. Mendoza’s toast.”
    “Oh, Clint! Good on ya!”
    Laughter lit his eyes. “Not only that, my knowledge of prehistoric art so impressed my supervisors that I’ve been detailed to a special Interpol task force. I’ll be working here in Europe for at least as long as it takes you to finish your studies.”
    “Are y’serious!”
    “Absolutely.” He cocked his head as the bells rose to a riotous clamor. “Sounds like you’ve got about ten seconds to get yourself out from behind that bar so we can kiss in the New Year. Move it, woman!”
    Laughing, Sophie ducked under the counter, rounded the bar and fell into his arms.

Evidence of Desire
    By Debra Webb

Chapter One
    Six days ’til Christmas
    Kenner City and the Four Corners area where Colorado, Utah, New Mexico and Arizona collided were a world away from Boston.
    Olivia Perez stared out the window of