Harlequin Holiday Collection - Four Classic Seasonal Novellas

paused on the threshold and touched her arm, nodding toward the ocean. “Look.”
    She stepped out onto the porch with him. A nearly full moon cast a shimmering silver pathway across the dark water, mesmerizing in its beauty.
    “Your grandmother used to tell us a story,” she said softly. “Something about sailing off on a stream of moonbeams to wonderful adventures. I dreamed about that for years.”
    “Good dreams, I hope.” He was very close, his voice a low baritone rumble.
    “The best.” An odd, somehow familiar longing touched her. She wanted— What? She didn’t know.
    That sent a tinge of panic through her. She knew what she wanted—sell the cottage; get through Kristie’s surgery; start her new job. Why did she feel so uncertain? She shivered.
    “You’re cold. You should go in.” David touched her, his palms warm on her arms.
    She should. But somehow her gaze tangled with David’s; somehow his hands were drawing her close, his lips finding hers, and the world went spinning away along the path of moonbeams.
    She pulled away, her lips cold where his had been. This was crazy. She turned and bolted into the cottage before she could do something even crazier, like kiss him again.

Chapter Eleven
    David whistled as he drove down the lane. Ally was going back to Atlanta in three weeks, but she and Kristie would come for weekends, maybe longer while Kristie recuperated.
    Even Allison’s rapid retreat after their kiss didn’t discourage him. They had plenty of time for their relationship to grow, and they had years of friendship to build it on.
    He parked and took the box he’d brought into the cottage, finding Kristie at the kitchen table.
    “Hey, sugar. I have something for you from Sammy.”
    Kristie slid from the chair, grabbed her crutches, and went into the living room without even acknowledging his presence.
    So much for all his good cheer.
    “I’m sorry.” Ally kept her voice low. “Kristie woke up when we were on the porch last night. She saw us.”
    “Saw us kissing, you mean.”
    Her gaze evaded his. “I tried to explain that we’re just friends. That it didn’t mean anything.”
    He put the sand dollar he’d brought on the table, then arranged the glue and glitter in a neat row. “Didn’t it?”
    “No.” That sounded firm, but she didn’t meet his eyes.
    “Maybe I should talk to her.”
    “I think it’s better to forget it.” She did meet his gaze then, and he saw that she didn’t just mean Kristie.
    She might be able to forget, but he didn’t think he would.
    “Well, guess I’d better get to work, then.” He carried a paint can into the living room. Kristie was curled on the couch with a book. “Sammy sent you a sand dollar shell and some glitter and glue. So you can make a Christmas ornament if you want.”
    Kristie put the book down, still not speaking.
    He bent to open the paint can. “If you need any help, just tell me.” He started painting.
    By the time Allison got her brush and joined him, Kristie had made her way to the table and was bending over the shell.
    “Thank you.” Allison concentrated on the paint she was applying. “And tell Sammy thanks, too.”
    He suppressed a smile. Ally and her daughter were alike in more than just looks.
    By the time they’d finished the woodwork along one wall, Allison was talking normally again, as if determined to show him that she had forgotten that kiss.
    “David?” Kristie’s voice was small. “Could you help me?”
    “Sure thing.” He found her ready to attach the hanging string. “Hey, great job. Do you know why we use the sand dollar for Christmas?” He felt Ally move, standing behind him.
    Kristie shook her head. “Tell me.”
    “See, on this side is the shape of an Easter lily, and inside it is a star.” He turned it over. “On the other side is a poinsettia. So the sand dollar is perfect for Christmas.”
    Kristie dangled the ornament from one finger. “Thank you for helping me. I’m sorry I acted mean.”
    He touched her cheek lightly. “Friends help each other.”
    Kristie’s smile flashed. Apparently their crisis was over.
    But Ally—he could feel the tension that went through her at his words. And he didn’t have the slightest idea why.

Chapter Twelve
    Allison had felt guilty all afternoon, and nothing she had said to herself seemed to help. She scrubbed paint off her hands at the kitchen sink, trying to ignore the feeling. She couldn’t.
    David had gone home after painting all