When the phone rang at twelve-fifteen, she nearly jumped out of her skin. Rarely did her phone ring. Other than Lucas, no one in Rocky Ford had her unlisted number. But why would he be calling today? “Maybe it’s one of those bothersome salespeople,” she muttered under her breath as she walked over to the kitchen extension and picked it up with a cool, unapproachable “Hello?”
“Andrea, this is Lucas. Um…something’s come up.” Lucas uttered what sounded like a nervous laugh to Andrea, and her heart sank. Surely he wasn’t going to tell her that he wasn’t coming. The house was permeated with good smells from the turkey roasting in the oven and the other dishes she had prepared, the tree had turned out so pretty with its twinkling lights and tinsel, and she was so emotionally ready for a genuine Christmas celebration that disappointment was already digging its claws into her.
“Is something wrong, Lucas?” She tried to speak normally, but she was so afraid he was going to cancel coming to dinner that she sounded forlorn. Wincing at her childishness, she added in a stronger voice, “What came up, Lucas? Are you all right?”
“Heck, it’s not me, honey. It’s Shep.”
Shep? Who or what was a Shep? “I don’t understand, Lucas.”
“Shep, Andrea, my son. He got here about thirty minutes ago. We’ve been unloading his car ever since. Mighty fine surprise it was to open my door and see him standing there. But…well, I’m a mite confused about the day now. I mean, you’re expecting one guest and—”
Andrea broke in. An enormous sense of relief made her sound breathless. “Lucas, I have enough food prepared for ten people. By all means, bring your son with you.”
“You’re a sweet lady, Andrea. That’s what I was hoping you’d say, and I was pretty sure you would, too. What I’m not sure of is if Shep will agree to go with me. I’m calling from my bedroom while he’s doing some unpacking. Had his car loaded to the roof. Must have brought every stitch he owns. You see, he’s here without his wife. Ex-wife, I should say.” Lucas’s voice had taken on a saddened note. “They’re divorced, Andrea, and Shep’s not very happy about it.”
“Oh, dear,” Andrea murmured sympathetically. “It happened awfully fast, didn’t it?”
“Apparently not. Shep just never said anything to me about their troubles when we talked on the phone. I thought everything was great with them. I still don’t know what really took place, but as I said, he’s only been here about a half hour. Anyhow, you’re sure it’s okay to bring him along?”
“Of course I’m sure. I’ll put another place setting on the table, Lucas. Do your best to convince Shep to come, and I’ll do my best to make him feel welcome.”
“Thanks, Andrea. You’re a peach.”
She put down the phone, realizing that Lucas had not said he would come even if Shep wouldn’t. With a helpless sensation, she looked around her small but efficient kitchen. The house had come furnished, but she had added her own pretty touches to it, making it hers. Today the counter was loaded with food, and so was the refrigerator. Telling Lucas that she had enough to feed ten people had been only a slight exaggeration. Easily she could feed six or seven.
And if Lucas didn’t come and help her eat some of it…?
Resentment for a man she’d never met suddenly assailed her. It was only natural for Lucas to be thrilled to see his son, but Dr. Shepler Wilde just showing up on his father’s doorstep on Christmas Day with no warning whatsoever seemed darned inconsiderate to her. Would it have killed him to stop at some point in his journey north to call his father? For that matter, since his marital troubles weren’t all that sudden, he could have informed Lucas weeks ago of his situation, and that he was coming home for Christmas.
He was probably exactly the kind of man she’d thought of before—an arrogant, self-centered jerk. And with a wonderful man like Lucas for a father, too. Andrea’s lips thinned in potent disapproval. She had desperately yearned for her own father for as long as she could remember, and Shep Wilde treated his like dirt. Life certainly wasn’t fair.
Well, she had no choice but to finish making dinner. There were potatoes to mash and gravy to make. If Lucas came, wonderful. If he didn’t…?
“Merry Christmas,” she mumbled as she set to work while battling a surge of self-pity. She wallowed in it for a few minutes, then cast it aside. She wouldn’t die from eating alone, and she could watch her movies alone, as well. Maybe she’d take a walk in the snow after dinner. It was coming down in huge, fluffy flakes, once again turning her yard into a wintry fairyland.
Determinedly she marched into the living room and inserted a disk into her CD player, a gift she had bought for herself. Christmas music wafted from the speakers, and she adjusted the volume so she could hear it in the kitchen. Then she returned to her cooking.
Such was life, she thought with a sigh as she stirred the gravy. Rather, such was her life, she amended in the next breath. After all, if she wasn’t such a flaming coward, she might be spending Christmas with Charlie and the rest of the Fanons.
Maybe she deserved to eat alone.
Intent on her own thoughts, she was startled to hear someone knocking on the back door. “Lucas,” she said with instantaneous relief and excitement. He had come, after all. Whether his son was with him or not was immaterial. Lucas was here, and that was all that mattered.
Hurrying to the door, she pulled it open. It was Lucas, all right, and he wasn’t alone. Standing just a little behind was the most handsome man Andrea had ever seen. As tall as his father, Dr. Shepler Wilde was lean where Lucas was heavy. His hair was thick and black and stunningly attractive with snowflakes in it. She assessed him quickly. Wide shoulders in a black leather jacket. Long legs in faded jeans. A white turtleneck sweater. Naturally dark-toned skin. A chiseled, sexy mouth. A strong chin and high cheekbones. Brooding, dark eyes.
She swallowed nervously, suddenly feeling giddy as a schoolgirl. “Come in before you turn into snowmen.” Stepping back, she held the door open for them to enter.
Lucas was beaming proudly. “Andrea, this is my son, Dr. Shepler Wilde. Shep, Miss Andrea Dillon.”
Andrea offered her hand. “Very nice meeting you.”
Shep’s hand around hers gave her an unexpected jolt. “Nice of you to have me over,” he said without so much as a hint of a smile.
His coolness was so unexpected, Andrea flushed. Swiftly she withdrew her hand from his. “Give me your jackets, and I’ll hang them in the closet.”
Both men removed their jackets and handed them to her. “Come on into the living room, Lucas,” she said, heading in that direction herself to hang the jackets in the small guest closet near the front door.
“Your tree is beautiful,” Lucas said. “Isn’t it nice, Shep?”
“Very nice,” Shep agreed.
Closing the door of the closet, Andrea turned to her guests. “Please sit down. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Just make yourself comfortable while I finish up.” She had dinner wine chilling in the refrigerator, but no other spirits in the house. If Dr. Wilde enjoyed a beforedinner drink, she had nothing to offer him. He would have to content himself with a comfortable chair, a view of the tree and the lovely music on the CD player.
Smiling weakly, she hurriedly returned to the kitchen. Her heart was pounding. Good Lord, she thought, disgusted that she would be so physically affected just from meeting a man. Especially when he hadn’t shown any signs of the same affliction with her.
But