For the first time since Christy had broken the news to her that she wasn’t taking this trip alone, she felt relieved that Zac was with them.

As long as he didn’t know that, there wouldn’t be a problem.

Feeling more in control, she settled back in her seat, enjoying the warmth and soft purr of the car. Beside her Holly slept, eyelashes a dusky crescent against creamy cheeks. The road wound through forest, through sleepy villages where pretty red houses nestled among snowy trees. Here, finally, was the winter wonderland Holly had longed for, and she wasn’t awake to see it.

Zac glanced in the mirror and caught her eye. “Is she all right?”

“Sleeping.” She felt a pang of envy. “Don’t you wish you could sleep like that?”

“You don’t sleep?”

He already knew more than enough about her. She wasn’t about to confess her sleeping problems, too. “This close to Christmas? I’m way too excited.” She thought she saw him smile.

“I didn’t have you pegged as a Christmas-lover, Alix.”

“Are you kidding? Christmas is my job.”

“Exactly. Your job.”

“I’m extremely good at my job.”

His gaze met hers in the mirror. “I’m sure you are. I’m sure you know everything there is to know about the commercial side of Christmas. But what about the rest of it?”

“The rest of it?”

“It isn’t about what you buy, it’s about what you give.”

“Oh please.” Instantly, she filed away that phrase to use in the following year’s Christmas ad. She could see it now. A small girl wrapping a gift for her sleeping parents. It isn’t about what you buy, it’s about what you give. “I never guessed you were so sentimental.”

“It’s not sentiment, Alix. It’s emotion. And unlike you, I’m not afraid of emotion.”

She was pretty sure that if she took the lid off hers right now, he’d be afraid. “I know plenty about giving. Selling is all about giving, by the way. I sell products that people buy and give to other people. Giving.”

There was a long pause.

“Tell me about your best Christmas gift.”

That one was easy. “The year I was given a pony.”

“A pony.” He nodded. “That’s a big present.”

She heard her mother’s voice in her head. You were supposed to be having her this Christmas, Anthony. This is inconvenient. And her father replying, Don’t worry. I’ve brought her something special. I can guarantee you won’t have to spend time with her.

She had loved that pony, but she’d spent most of Christmas crying into its neck.

And what she didn’t tell Zac was that she’d had the pony for all of a month before she and her mother had moved house. The pony had been sold.

The memory was uncomfortable. “What was your best Christmas?”

He hesitated. “I don’t know.”

She sensed he did know. Why wouldn’t he want to say? “Tell me.”

“The one where my dad took the day off work.” They were driving through a village now, and he slowed his pace. “He was a doctor, and he worked every Christmas when I was growing up. I’d written to Santa telling him that all I wanted for Christmas was to have my dad home. And sure enough, on Christmas morning, there he was, sitting under the tree with a mug of tea. To someone looking from the outside, there was nothing particularly special about the day, but to me it was the best Christmas I could have had. And my dad knew that. His gift to me was his time, and that was precious.”