Page 2 of Can't Miss Christmas

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

Monica the publicist. The one who’d booked Grace night and day for a year solid after she’d published her first book. The woman was a publicity machine, and she’d helped turn their home life into a circus.

“I…was in line to get a book. For my niece. But…I’ve got a long drive ahead of me.” There, that was the truth. He left out the part about panicking.

“Oh. Well. I can get you to the front of the line. Come on.”

There was no time to protest. She’d grabbed his arm and began hauling him over to Grace, whether he liked it or not.

Grace was talking to the store manager. Phrases drifted up likeAirport closed. Ten inches on the way.Monica left him to fend for himself as she walked over to join the discussion.

“Did you hear this?” Grace asked Monica. “The weather’s becoming a serious issue.”

Monica did something on her phone. “Your flight’s canceled.”

“My flightcan’tbe canceled.”

“Your flight, and those of a million other people. You can’t fly to Philly tomorrow.”

“Ihaveto,” Grace said. “I promised I’d be there for the book signing.”

Graham leaned against a wooden pillar in the middle of the store.Of courseshe’d promised. Every year, she took part in a Christmas Eve book signing for the kids who were stuck on the inpatient wards of the Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia over the holiday. She loved that hospital, the place where Joshua, their son, was born at just twenty-six weeks. He’d gotten the best care, but the odds had been stacked against him from the start.

Graham tried to shake off the memories that had flooded, unwanted, into his brain and his heart. Now was a very bad time to say hello. It was unfortunate that Monica had seen him, but, well, no harm done. Slipping away would be cowardly but still easy. He was sorry Grace wasn’t going to make the signing, really he was, but what concern was it of his?

“What about the train, a bus, that kind of thing?” Grace asked.

Monica shook her head. “Everything’s delayed for hours.”

Grace used to get annoyed at his problem-solver nature. How many times had she told him, “I’m not looking for advice, I just want you to listen to me,” but he couldn’t help himself. His brain just worked that way. And it was working that way now.

Well, he would just turn that off. Her problems were no longer his business. He’d just stopped by to wish her happy holidays. Plus it would be overstepping to interfere.

Graham pushed off from the pole, eyeballing the doors longingly, but for the second time that day, his feet betrayed him. Instead of heading toward freedom, he walked the few steps up to the desk where Grace sat. She was tapping her pen against her chin, deep in contemplation. His first thought was that she looked even younger than when he’d last seen her. Less stressed, maybe, now that he wasn’t around? Looked like divorce had been good for her.

“What about renting a car?” she asked Monica.

He cursed under his breath. She was a white-knuckle driver in snow. She’d grown up in Florida, and he wouldn’t trust her to drive his grandma to the corner grocery store in a blizzard.

“I’m driving to Philly,” he found himself blurting out. “I have a Range Rover. You can ride with me.”

No one was more stunned than himself. Why he’d just said that, he had no idea. His folks were waiting for him in their cozy house off the Main Line, where all his siblings and their families would gather for the holiday. It was his first holiday off in five years while his business partner manned the helm. He was looking forward to a quiet drive, some peace and relaxation. All he’d wanted was to say Merry Christmas, not offer to go on an odyssey of epic proportions across three state lines with his ex-wife.

In all fairness, she probably felt the same way.

“Graham.” Her pretty blue eyes widened. The word came out a little breathlessly, as if she was well and truly shocked.

“Hello, Grace,” he said. “Merry Christmas.”

* * *

Grace Alberts recognized the familiar masculine baritone immediately. It rumbled clear through to her bones. She registered her ex-husband’s tall, commanding physique, his lean muscles, his broad shoulders. He’d always had a startling gaze, with an intensity that made her feel like she was the only person in the room. Make that on theplanet. Her breath hitched as that same electrifying feeling coursed through her now, turning her already frayed nerves to dust.

So he was attractive. He was also ornery, prone to giving advice, and stubborn as a mule. Worse, he’d checked out—mentally, that is—at the time she’d needed him most.

Yes, they’d truly hurt each other back in the day, when they’d been so young and hopeful and innocent. Her gut twisted, wrung out with the pain of it still.

Despite the fact that her heart had just taken off like a racehorse at the starting bell, her palms were sweating, and she felt a bit dizzy, she attributed it all to stress. It had been a long book tour, and she was exhausted. The bookstore was packed, and even the windows were fogging up from everyone breathing.

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