The Shadows of Christmas Past

and a fire in the fireplace.
    "I put a few of the ornaments on the tree," he told her, "so it would be pretty when you first saw it." She continued to stay stiff and very still in his arms. "You don't like it, do you?"
    "You had no right." She choked on a sob. "No right."
    "I didn't think you'd mind."
    "I hate Christmas!"
    "That's not true. You wouldn't have been at the Holiday Fete if you did."
    "Alice made me."
    "Nobody makes you do anything," he scoffed. "You're too alpha to do as you're told."
    "Christmas is okay for other people," she conceded. "I wish them well."
    "You give your Taffy eggnog. You named the greyhound Noel."
    "That was luck of the draw. I'm indifferent to the holiday for myself. Please take down the tree."
    "I want to use it to lure the kids out of hiding."
    That stopped her. "How?"
    "They'll see it through the window when they come looking for work, and it'll be a reminder of what they're missing."

    "That's cynical."
    "No. It is a reminder of what they're missing. And it's a reminder for you, too. You need to come back from being so alone and aloof—or you wouldn't be reacting so strongly."
    "Let me go."
    He cradled her gently instead. Sometimes people needed contact, whether they thought they did or not, whether they were psychic or not.
    The connection between him and Marj was stronger than he'd thought. Her grief, and her effort to bury it, rocked him. He turned her, so that they were facing each other, he cradled her head, and guided it to rest on his chest. "Cry if you need to."
    "I don't want to." Her words were muffled in his shirt.
    "Then tell me all about it. Do whatever helps."
    "I hate Christmas." She lifted her head to look up at him, tears bright in he eyes. "I just do."
    "Because your father died this time last year."
    "He died at the end of November," she answered, a catch in her voice. "How do you know about it?"
    "Research. I've read over a year's worth of the town's newspapers since I started on this case, including obituaries."
    She accepted the explanation with a grudging nod, and a tear spilled down her cheek. "I don't want to go through—the memories. Christmas—it just reminds me—last year was—
    Christmas sucks."
    "Christmas sucked last year," he said. "This year it's time to start over. Christmas is about birth, beginnings, hope, light in the darkness—all that good stuff. And presents. Don't you want presents? And parties? And lights and music, and trees and all the good stuff."
    "You sound like Alice."
    "She's a soprano, I'm a baritone. But if she's trying to get you back into the world, she's right." Harry loved life, he loved the world. He ached to show Marj that the world was beautiful again. "Hiding is only a temporary refuge."
    "Who says?"
    "Me. You need to remember you're alive."
    Then he kissed her. There was simply nothing else he could do. What surprised him was the passionate hunger of her response and the way her mouth opened eagerly beneath his. The salt taste of her tears was on his tongue, her lips soft. The heat of her body and the scent of her skin went to his head.

    His hands moved down her back, caressing and drawing her nearer. He sensed her surprise at her own reactions, that a part of her was fighting to gain control.
    Oh, no, what this woman needed was a good loss of control.
    What he needed was her.
    He broke the kiss long enough to literally sweep Marj off her feet. She was so much smaller that holding her in his arms was easy. And cradling her against his chest was the most natural thing in the world.
    "What the—"
    He swung around and started out of the living room. "I'm not making love in front of the dogs," he declared.
    Taffy and Noel were standing nearby, gazing at them with the sort of enthusiastic doggy attention that said they wanted to play, too. He almost regretted leaving the living room, with the romantic holiday air he'd created with the tree, the soft candlelight and cozy fire. But they could make love there later. Right now, he wanted the comfortable intimacy of her big, wide bed.

    Harry carried her all the way to her bedroom, and Marj was shocked at herself for not protesting once. This man was little more than a stranger! Yet his kiss did something to stem the aching loneliness. She desperately needed his kisses, and more.
    She's spent a year in hell, and somehow, Harry held out the promise of heaven.
    She shouldn't want him so badly that her body ached with the need. But she'd wanted him since she'd first seen him