Montana Christmas. Jackie MerrittЧитать онлайн книгу.

       Two

      Lucas couldn’t compliment her enough during dinner. Andrea thanked him nicely and pretended that everything she cooked turned out so well. In truth, she had barely known how to boil water when she arrived in Rocky Ford. Teaching herself to cook had been one of the activities she’d used to pass time while she waited for the right moment to approach Charlie. Lucas had eaten with her before, and her first efforts at putting a full meal on the table hadn’t been all that great.

      But he was a man with an appetite and had seemed to like whatever she’d served him. Today even she thought dinner was delicious. The turkey was moist, the gravy rich and smooth, and the side dishes perfect complements to the meat. Dessert was pumpkin or apple pie, but both Lucas and Shep declined when she offered it, declaring they were too full to eat another bite.

      She believed Lucas wholeheartedly. He had filled his plate twice and had appeared to enjoy every mouthful. Shep, however, had eaten very little. He’d taken small portions and eaten them slowly, as though there was no hunger anywhere in his system and he was merely being polite.

      “We’ll have dessert later,” Andrea said with more cheeriness than she felt. Shep Wilde had had her sitting on the edge of her chair throughout the meal, although he had certainly done or said nothing to cause such an unusual reaction. Lucas had chattered away a mile a minute, talking about the weather, Shep’s long drive from California and Andrea’s good cooking, and she had tried her level best to keep the conversational ball rolling. But even Shep’s voice affected her—the few times he’d spoken during the meal…and looking directly into his dark eyes actually gave her goose bumps.

      The two men were waiting for her direction, she realized. Rising, she smiled. “Why don’t you make yourselves comfortable in the living room while I put away the food? I’ll only be a few minutes.”

      Lucas pushed back his chair. “I’m going to help with these dishes, young woman. And don’t try to argue me out of it. Shep, you go on into the living room and relax. Andrea and I will have everything shipshape in ten minutes.”

      Shep looked at Andrea standing there, awaiting her guests’ decisions with an anticipatory expression, and felt a stirring in his groin. He’d felt the same thing the minute he’d set eyes on this woman and, in fact, all during the fine meal she had put on the table. When Lucas told him that he’d called the lady next door, and that she had said to bring him along to dinner, he had immediately gotten a mental picture of an older woman, someone around his father’s age. He’d only agreed to come because Lucas had been so insistent. It had been a long time since he’d seen his father, and it was Christmas. Otherwise, he would have refused. His mood wasn’t one for meeting new people, even his father’s friends.

      Then the door to Andrea’s house had opened, and he’d felt that zap of awareness. Miss Andrea Dillon was young, beautiful, stunningly dressed and as sexy as any woman he’d ever seen. In fact, she was probably sexier, because sex was what he’d thought of all during dinner. Not that he’d arrived in Rocky Ford with any silly ideas about sex and women. Lord preserve him from another heartrending relationship. Natalie’s desertion had all but destroyed him, and the last thing he wanted was another woman. In truth, he had wondered if he would ever want another woman.

      But here was fate, or something, causing his traitorous body to respond to the first attractive woman he’d met in ages. It really was too much, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to do anything about his ludicrous physical reactions to the sensuous Miss Dillon. It made him angry that he couldn’t seem to eradicate those reactions, but he wasn’t blaming Andrea and the anger was aimed at himself. After all, she couldn’t help being beautiful, sultry and sexually intriguing. Nor was it her fault that his hormones were raging as though he were an adolescent ogling his first unclothed female breast.

      Drawing in a long breath, he nodded and headed for the living room. Andrea left to help his father with the dishes.

      In the living room, Shep sat in an easy chair from which he could look out the front window at the lazily falling snow. It was a pretty sight, but the Christmas music on the CD player was emotionally wrenching. Thoughts of the past few months deluged him: learning by accident that Natalie was seeing another man; confronting her with expectations of denial and hearing instead, “I want a divorce”; then the arguments; the pleas on his part; Natalie’s rock-solid determination; his last-ditch effort to win her back by willingly signing a property settlement giving her everything she asked for; her departure for Mexico to get it over with quickly; and finally the day she returned home with divorce papers and told him to pack his personal possessions and get out of her house.

      There was no hope left; it was truly over. He had moved into a hotel and tried to resume his life. But most of his patients were rich, spoiled people who spent a great deal of their time fighting old age, and he had found himself canceling appointments. The reason for his successful practice was a bitter pill to swallow. Natalie’s father was a major producer in the movie industry. He had sent stars, directors and everyone else he knew that wanted a new nose, tummy tuck or some sort of surgical procedure, to Shep’s office.

      Shep had dreamed of a much different practice before meeting Natalie while he was still interning. He had wanted to limit his vocation to accident victims or people born with congenital defects, people who truly needed reconstructive surgery.

      But he’d let himself be dazzled by the life-styles of the rich and famous, and had opened a fancy office in a fancy building and had started making incredible amounts of money from breast implants and face-lifts. For a man from a small town in Montana, it had all seemed like a dream-a gorgeous wife, famous friends and more money than he could spend.

      It wasn’t more than Natalie could spend, however. The truth was that he had worked his fanny off, having become addicted to those astonishing fees. But no matter how much money he put in the bank, it had a way of disappearing. With what Natalie had received in the divorce settlement, he found himself close to being broke. Disillusioned, unhappy with his work and broke. Yes, he could have geared up and built up his bank account. But nothing had held much meaning anymore.

      A week ago he’d parceled out his remaining patients to other doctors, closed his fancy office, packed his car and headed for Montana. Not to burden Lucas with his personal problems, God forbid, but to give himself some breathing space. And maybe to find himself again, to figure out what he wanted to do with the rest of his life.

      Staring almost hypnotically at the falling snow, he felt the emptiness within himself, the lack of purpose and ambition and the strangest urge to do nothing but watch snow fall or something equally mundane from this day forward. What had working hard gotten him? Why exert so much effort when this was the result?

      He could hear Andrea and his father in the kitchen, moving about, talking to each other and laughing every so often. With a wall between him and Andrea, he could think of her as just another person. During dinner, he had not had that luxury. Her every movement had impacted his libido. Her eyes were especially beautiful, heavily lashed and that striking shade of green, and he doubted if her face and figure had ever been altered by a surgeon.

      But there was something about her that didn’t ring a hundred percent true. Take