Later that afternoon, Lindsey was kneeling in the tree lot, elbow-deep in Virginia pine trimmings, when Sushi suddenly leaped to her feet and yipped once in the direction of the house.

      A car door slammed.

      Pushing back her wind-blown hair with a forearm, Lindsey stood, shears in hand and strained her eyes toward the house. A blue Silverado once more sat in her driveway and Jesse Slater strode toward her front door.

      Quickly, she laid aside the shears and scrambled out of the rows of pine trees.

      Hadn’t the man said he’d call for her decision? What was he doing out here again? Her misgivings rushed to the fore.

      “Hello,” she called, once she’d managed to breech the small rise bordering the tree lot. The house was only about fifty yards from the trees, and Sushi trotted on ahead.

      Jesse spun on his boot heel, caught sight of her and lifted a hand in greeting.

      “No wonder you didn’t answer your phone,” he said when she’d come within speaking distance.

      With chagrin, Lindsey realized that it had happened again. While working in the trees, she frequently lost track of time, forgot to eat, forgot about everything except talking to the Lord and caring for the trees. Maybe that’s why she loved the tree farm so much and why she’d been so reluctant to take on a hired hand. While among the trees, she carried on a running conversation with God, feeling closer to Him there than she did anywhere—even in church.

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late.” Holding her dirty hands out to her sides, she said, “Why don’t you come on in while I wash up? Then we can talk.”

      Jesse, who’d managed to shave somewhere since she’d seen him last, hesitated. “I hate to ask this, but would you mind putting the dog up again? My daughter is with me.”

      Lindsey pivoted toward the truck, aware for the first time that a small, worried face pressed against the driver’s-side window. “I don’t mind, but that is something else we need to discuss. If you’re going to work for me, we have to find a way for Jade and Sushi to get along.”

      A ghost of a grin lit the man’s face. “Does that mean none of my references revealed my sinister past?”

      “Something like that.” In fact, his references had been glowing. One woman had gone beyond character references though, and had told Lindsey about Jesse’s wife, about the tragic accident that had made him a widower, and about his raw and terrible grief. Her sympathy had driven her to pray for the man and his little girl—and to decide to hire him.

      “If you’ll carry Jade inside again, I’ll hold Sushi and leave her outside while we talk.”

      Jesse did as she asked, galloping across the lawn with the child on his back, her dark hair streaming out behind like a pony’s tail. Dog forgotten in the fun, Jade’s giggle filled the quiet countryside.

      “Would you like some tea? Or a Coke?” Lindsey asked once the child and man were seated inside on the old brown sofa. “I’ve been in the trees so long I’m parched as well as dirty.”

      “A Coke sounds great, although we don’t intend to continue imposing on your hospitality this way.”

      “Why not?”

      He blinked at her, confused, then gave a short laugh. “I don’t know. Doesn’t seem polite, I suppose.”

      She started into the kitchen, then stopped and turned around. “If you’re going to work for me, we can’t stand on ceremony. You’ll get hungry and thirsty, so you have to be able to come up here or into the office down at the tree patch and help yourself.”

      “So I have the job.” With Jade glued to his pants leg, he followed Lindsey into the kitchen, moving with a kind of easy, athletic grace.

      Lindsey stopped at the sink to scrub her hands. The smell of lemon dishwashing liquid mingled with the pungent pine scent emanating from her skin and clothes. It was a good thing she loved the smell of Christmas because it permeated every area of her life. Even when she dressed up for church and wore perfume, the scent lingered.

      “If you want it. The hours are long. The work is not grueling, but it is physical labor. You can choose your days off, but between now and Christmas, things start hopping.”

      An odd look of apprehension passed over Jesse’s face. He leaned against the counter running alongside the sink. “What do you mean, hopping?”

      “Jesse, this is a Christmas tree farm. Though I’m mostly a choose-and-cut operation, I also harvest and transport a certain number of trees to area city lots, grocery stores, etc., about mid-November.” She dried her hands on the yellow dishtowel hanging over the oven rail.

      “Do you do that yourself or have someone truck them?” He followed her to the refrigerator where she handed him two colas. He popped the lids and gave one to Jade, then took a long pull on the other, his silver eyes watching her over the rim.

      “Right now I’m delivering them myself, but long-range I want a large enough clientele to ship them all over the country.” Her shoulders sagged. “But that takes advertising and advertising takes money—which I do not have at present.” Taking a cola for herself, she waved a hand. “But I’m getting off topic here. Let’s go sit down and discuss your job. Jade,” she said, glancing down toward the child, “I have some crayons and a coloring book around here somewhere if you’d like to color while your dad and I talk.”

      The child’s eyes lit up, so Lindsey gathered the materials she kept stashed in a kitchen drawer and spread them on the table.

      The child eyed the table doubtfully and clung tighter to her father’s leg. She pointed toward the living room, not ten feet away. “Can I go in there with you and Daddy?”

      The poor little lamb was a nervous wreck without her daddy.

      “Of course, you can.” Lindsey swept up the crayons and book and proceeded into the living room, settling Jade at the coffee table.

      All the while, she was aware of the handsome stranger’s eyes on her. His references were excellent. She could trust him. She did trust him. She even felt a certain comfort in his presence, but something about him still bothered her.

      Was it because he was too good-looking? She had been susceptible to good looks once before and gotten her heart broken.

      No. That had happened