“Yes.” She smiled sadly. “He doesn’t warm to people. In fact, he’s cold and withdrawn with almost everyone. You can’t imagine how shocked I was when he phoned me and asked me to come down here because of a young girl he was going to get custody of.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I thought he was joking.”

“But he’s not. Cold and withdrawn, I mean.” Michelle faltered.

“Not with you.” She stared into Michelle’s eyes earnestly. “I haven’t heard Gabriel laugh in years,” she added softly. “But he does it all the time with you. I don’t understand it. But you give him peace, Michelle.”

“That would be nice, if it were true. I don’t know if it is,” Michelle replied.

“It’s fairly obvious what you feel for him.”

She flushed. She couldn’t lift her eyes.

“He won’t take advantage of it, don’t worry,” Sara added gently. “That’s why I’m here.” She laughed. “He’s taking no chances.”

“He doesn’t want to get involved with a child,” Michelle said heavily.

“You won’t be a child for much longer,” the other woman pointed out.

“I’m sure he meets beautiful women all the time,” Michelle said.

“I’m sure it doesn’t matter what they look like,” Sara replied. She smiled. “You’ll see.”

Michelle didn’t reply to that. She just sipped her hot chocolate and felt warm inside.

It was the week before Christmas, a Friday about lunchtime, when the women heard a truck pull up in the driveway.

Michelle, who was petting one of the horses in the corral, saw the truck and gasped and ran as fast as she could to the man getting out of it.

“Gabriel!” she cried.

He turned. His face lit up like floodlights. He held out his arms and waited until she ran into them to pick her up and whirl her around, holding her so close that she felt they were going to be joined together forever.

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” she choked.

“I’ve missed you.” His voice was deep at her ear. He lifted his head and set her on her feet. His black eyes were narrow, intent on her face. He touched her mouth with just the tip of his forefinger, teasing it apart. His eyes fell to it and lingered there while her heart threatened to jump right out of her throat.

“Ma belle,” he whispered roughly.

He framed her oval face in his big hands and searched her eyes. “Ma belle,” he repeated. His eyes fell to her mouth. “It’s like falling into fire...”

As he spoke, his head started to bend. Michelle’s heart ran away. She could hear her own breathing, feel his breath going into her mouth, taste the coffee and the faint odor of tobacco that came from him, mingled with some masculine cologne that teased her senses.