"What are you going to do?" Jessica asked in a hushed voice filled with amusement. "Find out which ones are your gifts and shake them?"

He chuckled. "No, you and I are going to put Santa's gifts under the tree, which has somehow become my job over the years. And then we have cookies to eat and milk to drink so the little imps upstairs will know that Santa was really here."

She glanced at the coffee table, where the kids had left a plate piled high with the sugar cookies they'd made that evening, and a glass of milk that had no doubt turned warm. A brief glimpse of melancholy flickered over her expression, but by the time she met his gaze again whatever emotional memory she'd been caught up in was gone.

She smiled at him. "Well, let's get started," she said, enthusiasm infusing her voice.

She followed him to the coat closet that doubled as a storage area under the stairs, and they spent the next half hour hauling presents out and placing them under the tree until the corner of the room was overflowing with gaily wrapped gifts. His sisters had left small bags of items to stuff in the kids' stockings, and by the time he and Jessica were done, it appeared that Santa had, indeed, paid a visit to the Matthews home.

"And now for the cookies," Jessica reminded him, caught up in the spirit of things, just as he'd intended.

After the snippets she'd revealed about her childhood, he'd suspected that it had been a long time since she'd enjoyed such frivolous fun, and it made his heart swell that he was able to share this with her. "Let me go get a fresh glass of milk."

He returned a minute later and sat beside her on the couch. The blinking lights from the tree cast pretty highlights in her hair, and made her eyes shimmer with the delight still lingering from their escapade of playing Santa's helpers.

He picked up a cookie sprinkled with red and green sugar, and popped the entire thing into his mouth and chewed. "I think this is the best part of Christmas."

She slanted him a curious look as she selected her own baked confection, then nibbled on it. "What? Eating the cookies?"

He shook his head, and washed down his bite with a drink of milk. "Knowing that the kids are going to come downstairs in the morning and see the gifts under the tree and the plate with crumbs on it, and truly believe that Santa was here." He filched another cookie, and thought about himself as a young boy on Christmas, so filled with energy and excitement, until he'd discovered the truth about St. Nick. "I remember I was so crushed when I learned there was no Santa Claus."

"How did you find out?" She shared his glass of milk, then licked the remaining droplets off her lips.

Ignoring the automatic desire that flared to life within him at Jessica's innocent gesture, he reminded himself that this weekend wasn't about the seduction they'd yet to consummate. Averting his attention, he took one of the remaining cookies between his fingers and crushed it to leave visible crumbs on the plate. "Well, I thought I'd be creative and test the Santa theory, and instead of leaving cookies for him, I insisted on making him a peanut butter and sardine sandwich."

"Oh, yuck." She blanched, her expression reflecting her disgust at the combination. "Were you trying to assure that Santa never paid another visit to your house?"

He chuckled. "Well, I remember thinking if the sandwich was gone, then there really was a Santa because he'd be so hungry from his trip around the world that he'd eat it, or feed it to Rudolph. But if it was still there in the morning, then there wasn't really a Santa, because no normal person would eat something so awful."

"Interesting theory," she said, her tone wry. "And what happened?"

"In the morning, it was gone." He licked the remnants of sugar from his fingers.

"Your parents ate it?" she asked incredulously.

"Not exactly." Grinning, he reclined against the sofa cushions and stacked his hands behind his head. "I found it in the trash. I was eight, and I think I was ready to discover the truth, but I was still crushed."

She nodded in understanding, and there was that melancholy again.

"What about you?" he asked, tugging on her pajama sleeve before she could emotionally retreat from him. "When did you discover that there wasn't really a Santa Claus?"

Sitting back, she drew her knees up on the couch and wrapped her arms around her legs. "Well, it was the year my parents divorced." She gave him a sad smile that made him ache for her. "I was nine years old, and after losing my father, believing in Santa Claus was just so important to me. A part of me knew he wasn't real, but I clung to the fairy tale."

With a soft sigh, she rested her chin on her knees and focused on the Christmas tree lights. "I remember asking for the newest, latest Barbie playhouse that was out at the time. It was really expensive, and Brooke kept giving me the spiel that Santa has a lot of kids to bring gifts to, and not all kids get what they want. She knew where the presents came from, and also knew I was in for a big letdown. Still, that was the only thing I put on my list, because I wanted so badly to believe that Santa was real, and that he'd bring me that one toy because I knew it was too expensive for my mother to afford."

She ducked her head so he couldn't see her face, but her trembling voice gave her away. "My mother was hardly ever home because she was working two jobs, and when I heard her come in on Christmas Eve after working her late shift at a restaurant, I snuck out to the living room and saw her sitting on the floor wrapping presents. And there, among a few inexpensive trinkets for me and Brooke was the Barbie playhouse I'd asked for. And in the morning, it had a tag on it that said, 'From Santa'."

Finally, she turned and looked at him, the moisture in her eyes revealing her inner pain. "As much as I loved my mother for scrimping and saving to give me my one wish, I stopped believing in a lot of things that Christmas."

Her anguish seemingly became his own, squeezing his chest tight, and the only thing he could think of was chasing away her misery and bad memories and giving her something she could cling to and depend on. Him.

"Jessie, sweetheart," he whispered, and reached for her, because mere words were inadequate to soothe her. She came into his embrace without resisting, burrowing into him like a lost soul seeking comfort. Wrapping an arm around her back and holding her close, he eased them both down onto the couch so she was lying between him and the cushions, cocooned in his warmth and strength.

She buried her face against his neck, and a great, big shuddering sigh wracked her entire body. Then, he felt the hot dampness of tears seeping through his T-shirt, and knew all he could do was just be there for her while she came to terms with the pain of her past.

He cuddled her close and watched the tree lights dance in front of them, stroking her side and hip through her flannel pajamas until her breathing grew deep and even and he knew she'd succumbed to peaceful sleep. In a few minutes, he'd wake her up and take her back to her room. In the meantime, he savored the feel of her, the jasmine scent of her hair and skin, and how perfectly she fit into his life… and he came to realize with a calm acceptance that despite not looking for love, he'd found it with her. And no matter what he had to do, he wanted to make room for her in his life, his future.

If only she'd allow him into her heart.


* * *

Jessica snuggled closer to the warm, masculine body next to hers, luxuriating in the sense of complete contentment and security enveloping her. Their sleeping quarters were cramped, but she didn't mind. Her head rested on Ryan's chest, her arm was slung over his stomach, and her legs entwined with his. A sleepy smile touched her lips when she realized that one of Ryan's hands was tangled in her hair, and his warm breath brushed across her temple.

She'd neverslept with a man before, nor had any man ever held her so tenderly, without expecting a sexual favor in return. And despite the desire that Ryan inspired, she liked the feeling of just being held in his arms, especially after last night and the desolate memories that had swamped her. He'd silently consoled her and allayed the loneliness that had been her constant companion for far too long.

Yet, she knew the isolation and solitude would return once he was no longer a part of her life. And as much as the thought of letting Ryan go hurt, she accepted it as inevitable, knowing their lives, their aspirations and dreams for the future, didn't mesh.

Ignoring the ache in her heart, she sighed and rubbed her cheek against his chest, focusing on the present and what they had in common-their attraction, desire and passion. And for now, for today and the next week, she planned to be greedy and experience it all. And then, when that awful loneliness settled in, she'd have wondrous memories to draw on, to keep her warm on the long, solitary nights ahead.

The sound of hushed whispers and stifled giggles reached past Jessica's musings, and brought her back to the present. She blinked her eyes open and found herself staring at Ryan's three nieces, who stood in front of the couch watching them sleep. From the other room, she could hear the adults approaching, too. Not sure how to handle the situation or explain their dilemma, even though they'd done nothing wrong, she gave Ryan a firm shake.

He awoke, slowly and lazily. His slumberous gaze met hers, and a sexy smile eased up the corners of his mouth. "Morning," he murmured.

Trying not to let that husky, intimate voice of his and just how gorgeous he looked first thing in the morning distract her, she nodded toward the trio in front of them. "Uh, we've got company."