He stopped himself short, hesitating to finish his thought. Like a starving man given a bite of food only to have it taken away, Kate longed to hear it completed. What couldn’t he do? And why couldn’t he do it? She reminded herself to be grateful. For most of the day, he’d been as emotionally distant as he possibly could be. This was one of the first glimpses she got of his full emotional range. Even if his disappointment seemed silly to her, at least he was showing her some feeling. He could have kept himself closed off and private, deflecting her every attempt to get close to him. But he didn’t. He was letting her see him for the first time. Kate stepped behind him, reaching her arms under his to better help him.

She didn’t want to think about how good he smelled. Like an oaken whiskey barrel or a fresh forest. Nor did she want to think about how good his warmth felt mixing with hers. She didn’t want to think about her desire to wrap her arms around his chest and hold him to her until he turned around and returned the gesture.

She didn’t want to. But she did anyway.

“Let me help,” she whispered, unable to catch her own stampeding breath.

Slowly, she guided his hands through the process, paying special attention to the tips of the stars.

“See?” She withdrew from him as he laid the star down on the cookie sheet, wanting to wipe the girlish swoon from her eyes before he could catch it. “Perfect.”

“Thanks.”

Was it her hope talking, or did he sound as breathless as she felt? Kate cleared her throat and returned to their task. Maybe talking about him would remove all of the magic tingles crossing her skin.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of it.” She nudged him playfully with her shoulder. “Why haven’t you had Christmas for twenty years?”

“I went to boarding school.”

A diplomatic answer. Kate didn’t accept it.

“And what? You never came back?”

“My parents died on New Year’s. We’d just had our big family Christmas. I was only nine.” Her lungs stopped working as he delivered his story with matter-of-fact sincerity. Her hands stilled over the cookies, but Clark went on cutting. “They were up in Eagle Point. I was here with my uncle. They went to a party and never came home. They told me a drunk driver lost control on a patch of black ice.”

“Oh, Clark. I didn’t mean… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Such a small way to apologize for something so massive, but Kate couldn’t think of anything else to say. The gears of comprehension ground together in her head as information flew at her. She pieced it together. It all led to one heartbreaking picture.