A Randall Thanksgiving by Judy Christenberry Read Free Book Online Page B

which she took back into the living room.
    The big club chair was as comfortable as she remembered. Facing the fireplace, it was her favorite place to sit. She would put her feet up and let the fire warm them, while gazing into the flames. Melissa had spent many a winter afternoon in this chair with a pad on her lap while she worked on her designs.
    “You’re the picture of contentment.”
    The male voice startled her. She jumped, nearly spilling her wine, and turned toward the sound.
    There, sprawled out on the big sofa, was Harry Gowan. He was wrapped in her mother’s handmade floral quilt, his head sticking out one end, his feet the other.
    “What are you doing here?” she demanded.
    “You invited me, remember?”
    Yes, she did. She’d just figured John had put him up in one of the spare rooms after she’d gone to bed. She told Harry so.
    “No need to go to so much trouble. The couch was fine.” He smiled. “At least until you woke me.”
    “Sorry. I—I couldn’t sleep.”
    “Worried about your mother?” he asked. As he sat up, the quilt fell to his lap, revealing his bare chest. In the glowing firelight it looked bronzed, each muscle rippling as he breathed in and out.
    She couldn’t take her eyes off him. His brown hairwas sleep-tousled, his jaw shadowed by a hint of stubble. She wondered what he wore underneath that quilt; no clothing was visible.
    “She’ll be fine. Caro’s a great doctor. There’s no need to worry.”
    “She’s my cousin, Harry. I know what kind of doctor she is.”
    “You have been away for a while. I’m not sure you know how well equipped the hospital is. Though it’s probably not what you’re used to.” He eyed the glass she was holding. “Are you drinking wine?”
    “Do you have a problem with that?” she asked.
    He shook his head. “Not my personal favorite.”
    “Back in Paris everyone drinks it, even children.”
    He gave her a crooked smile as he looked around the cozy room. “In case you haven’t noticed, Melissa, you’re not in Paris anymore.”
    He hadn’t spoken truer words.
    But in Paris she didn’t have a matchmaking father breathing down her neck, determined to marry her off to the local deputy. No matter how handsome he was.
    She pulled the collar of her nightgown closed and stood up. “I’ve got to get some sleep. Good night, Mr. Gowan.”
    Before he could reply, she strode out of the room, forgetting her robe until she got back to bed. Damned if she’d return for it.
    There was something about Harry that made her react, like a spark to tinder. Given that incendiary quality, she’d best keep her distance.
    She got into bed, once more tossing and turning in her quest for sleep. But she couldn’t relax. And she knew the reason why.
    He was on the couch in the living room.
     
    I T WAS STILL DARK when John woke Harry. He roused him from a deep sleep on the sofa.
    “Sorry, buddy, but the storm has stopped and Melissa and I are going to try to make it to the hospital before they start the surgery. You can sleep longer if you want. Just leave whenever you like.”
    Harry sat up and his eyes lit on the blue robe across the back of the chair nearest the kitchen. So he hadn’t dreamed it; Melissa had been here.
    He hoped John didn’t see the robe and start asking questions.
    “I’ll follow you into town, John. That way, if either of us has any trouble, we have help.”
    “That’d be great. Hey, you want breakfast?”
    Harry looked into the lighted kitchen but saw no sign of Melissa. “No, I’ll catch it at the café.”
    He didn’t see her until they left the house. She was already in the truck waiting for John when the men came outside. She looked tense and apprehensive, and Harry knew she hadn’t slept a wink all night.
    They started toward town, ahead of the snowplow. All told, it looked as if a foot and a half of snow had fallen overnight and about half of that remained on the roadway, having iced in the predawn freeze.
    The