“I have time. I put in a few hours at the store this morning. My mother’s swamped. But Brandon’s taking the afternoon shift. That’s my brother’s ball mitt,” she told Jack, who instantly snatched his hand away from it.

“I was only looking.”

“It’s okay. You can touch, he doesn’t mind. Do you like baseball?”

“I played T-ball last year, and I’m going to play Little League when I’m old enough.”

“Brand played T-ball, too, and Little League. And now he plays for a real major league team. He plays third base for the L.A. Kings.”

Jack’s eyes rounded—little green gems. “For real?”

“For real.” She crossed over, slipped the glove onto the delighted Jack’s hand. “Maybe when your hand’s big enough to fit, you’ll play, too.”

“Holy cow, Dad. It’s a real baseball guy’s mitt.”

“Yeah.” He gave up. He couldn’t block anyone who gave his son such a thrill. “Very cool.” He ruffled Jack’s hair, smiled over at Kate. “Can I have three marshmallows, too?”

“Absolutely.”

The boy was a jewel, Kate thought as she prepared the hot chocolate, set out cookies. She had a weakness for kids, and this one was, as her father had said, a pistol.

Even more interesting, she noted, was the obvious link between father and son. Strong as steel and sweet as candy. It made her want to cuddle both of them.

“Lady?”

“Kate,” she said and put his mug of chocolate in front of him. “Careful now, it’s hot.”

“Okay. Kate, how come you wear funny clothes when you dance? Dad has no idea.”

Brody made a small sound—it might have been a groan—then took an avid interest in the selection of cookies.

Kate arched her eyebrows, set the other mugs on the table, then sat. “We like to call them costumes. They help us tell whatever story we want through the dance.”

“How can you tell stories with dancing? I like stories with talking.”

“It’s like talking, but with movement and music. What do you think of when you hear ‘Jingle Bells,’ without the words?”

“Christmas. It’s only five days till Christmas.”

“That’s right, and if you were going to dance to Jingle Bells, the movements would be happy and fast and fun. They’d make you think of sleigh rides and snow. But if it was ‘Silent Night,’ it would be slow and reverent.”

“Like in church.”

Oh, aren’t you quick, she thought. “Exactly. You come by my school some time, and I’ll show you how to tell a story with dancing.”

“Dad’s maybe going to build your school.”

“Yes, maybe he is.”

She opened the folder. Interesting, Brody thought, how she set the bid aside and went straight to the drawings. Possibilities rather than the bottom line.

Jack got down to business with the hot chocolate, his eyes huge with anticipation as he blew on the frothy surface to cool it. Kate ignored hers, and the cookies. When she began to ask questions, Brody scooted his chair over so they bent over the drawings together.