of food and drink. “Of course, you must have put the tree in front window of the great room. It must have looked fabulous.”
“Yeah. Lincoln was like a kid at Christmastime. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asked the architect to design The Pines with that huge window so that he could get himself a twenty-five-foot pine to put in it every year. How’s that look? Is it straight?” he queried.
Deidre stepped back and walked in a half circle, inspecting the tree—and Nick—beneath it. “It’s perfect.”
He backed out and stood. She waved toward the kitchen. “I bought some hot chocolate earlier. It’s just instant, but—”
“I’d love some.”
“Oh...okay, great, then I’ll just—”
“Here. I’ll start to put on the lights and you get the hot chocolate,” he said, coming toward her. She handed him the box of bulbs. When he didn’t move back and Deidre didn’t immediately head toward the kitchen, a strange combination of awareness of his nearness and awkwardness struck her at once.
“What about music?” he asked.
She started. “Music?”
“Yeah. You know...‘White Christmas,’ ‘Jingle Bells.’”
Deidre laughed. She couldn’t help it. Something about the idea of scowling, bottom-line, business-mogul Nick Malone getting into the Christmas spirit was funny, and yet... right somehow, too.
She ignored his bewildered expression at her laughter and walked toward the bedroom, where there was a radio. “I’ll see if I can’t find a station playing some.
“Was Lincoln responsible for this?” she mused a few minutes later when she walked into the living room with two steaming mugs. “We Three Kings” played softly on the radio while snow drifted down at a lazy pace outside of the window.
“For me bringing over the Christmas tree?” Nick asked as he strung on lights.
“No. For this unexpected proclivity for Christmas spirit in Nick Malone,” she said, turning the handle of his mug so he could grasp it with one hand.
He took a sip, studying her from over the rim.
“You assumed I’d be a Scrooge, I guess.”
“All I have to go on is precedent.”
A shiver went through her at the sound of his deep, gravelly laughter.
“Maybe you’re right,” he said, handing the cup back to her after a moment. “I have a lot of really good memories from Christmases at The Pines. After we met, Linc invited me over every year for the decorating party and also on Christmas Eve. When I got older, he was always encouraging me to lighten up at that time of year...enjoy the holiday...try to reflect on what it was I was working so hard for. What about you?”
She set his mug on the mantel and glanced back at him. “What do you mean?”
He shrugged and resumed his task. “How’d you get to like Christmas so much?”
“My family was always big on Christmas,” Deidre said, poking through the bag and beginning to unwrap some garland. “Although as a kid, I might have been the most avid Kavanaugh Christmas devotee.” She glanced up to see his gaze was on her face even as his hands moved in the branches. “I adored Christmastime. It was just...” She shrugged sheepishly. “Magical.”
He said nothing as he continued to string on the lights, but she didn’t have the impression of being dismissed for her whimsy.
“You’re really going to miss Lincoln, aren’t you?” she asked softly after a moment. He paused in his actions and met her stare.
“Yeah,” he said. “I really am.”
Deidre admitted to herself that Nick had known her guard would be breached by the gift of the Christmas tree. She should have been alarmed by that knowledge. But it was difficult to think of him as her enemy as they sat on the couch, admiring the pretty, glowing tree they’d decorated together while snow fell outside the window. A big band rendition of “Winter Wonderland” played on the radio and the fire kept the room toasty.
Her respect for him grew as she drew him out about his work at DuBois