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"Are you sure you want to do this?" Traci Calhoun asked her six-year-old son.

Parker bobbed his head, reddish blond hair peeking out from beneath a knit cap, a down jacket buttoned to his chin. The heater in Traci's old Camaro was on the blink again, the defroster blowing cool air. "It's Christmastime, Mom. And he's all alone."

"Of course, you're right. What was I thinking?" The daughter of a pastor, she had raised her son well. But today, she wished he wasn't inclined to extend his goodwill to the outskirts of town. To the elusive stranger who had moved into Orchid House.

The lone mansion sat on a hill, the woods looming behind it. As the house came into view, she told herself to relax. The ghost stories about Orchid House were legend in Wileyville, but what bothered her most was why Daniel Crow felt compelled to live there, secluded from the rest of the world and shrouded in mystery.

She parked in front of the mansion. It looked like a Southern plantation, completely out of place on the fringes of a small Pennsylvania town.

Parker reached for the cookies, the gesture rife with anticipation. "I heard he's a real-live Indian, Mom."

And that was a source of fascination to her son, Traci thought. One of the reasons he insisted on paying Daniel Crow a visit. "I know, but I think he might prefer to be called an American Indian, rather than a real-live one. Of course, there's always Native American. I get a little confused about what's politically correct these days."

"Huh?"

The boy made a curious face, and she realized she had spoken over his head. Truthfully, she didn't know what Daniel Crow preferred. She didn't know anything about him, aside from the adjectives others had used to describe him.

Tall. Dark. Lean. Mean. Moody.

Unfortunately they weren't the kinds of words that welcomed a woman, a child, and a tin of gingerbread.

A brick walkway led to the front door, twin columns standing guard. An abundance of foliage fought to survive the winter, making the mansion look even more ominous. Supposedly the scent of orchids haunted the lonely halls, a perfume that lingered from the female ghosts who resided there.

Traci knocked, and her son shifted his feet in the brisk morning air.

Within minutes, Daniel Crow answered the summons. No one spoke, including Parker, who was known for being chatty. The man they had come to see was tall and intimidating. His hair, as sleek and black as a raven's wing, fell onto broad shoulders.

But it was his eyes that caught Traci's attention. As dark as his hair, they revealed not even the slightest flicker of emotion. Nothing, she thought, wondering what secrets they chose to hide.

"May I help you?" He said finally, his voice tinged with a husky Southern drawl.

Clearly awed, Parker offered the decorative tin.

Hesitating for a moment, Daniel accepted the gift. Appearing confused, he held the container without opening it.

"Cookies," Traci explained.

Those black eyes met hers, drilling her with a hypnotic stare. Why hadn't anyone described him as captivating? Or striking? The kind of man who made a girl forget to breathe? Refined yet rugged, he exuded an odd blend of Southern grace and Native roots. His posture was long and almost lazy, yet his features were stern and proud.

"You must have me mixed up with someone else," he said.

"No way." This came from Parker, who inched forward, putting himself nearly toe to toe with the lord of Orchid House. "You're that Indian guy who never talks to anybody. My grandpa says that's okay, though. 'Course, he's grumpy sometimes, too."

Traci didn't apologize for her son. She couldn't bear to embarrass him in front of the man he hoped to befriend. And little Parker Calhoun was what he was. Honest to a fault.

"So you brought me cookies." There was a hint of amusement in Daniel's slow, sensual drawl, just enough to tilt one corner of his lips. "Chocolate chip, I'll bet."

"Nope," the boy replied. "They're gingerbread. And they're shaped like angels, with white icing on their wings and gold candy on their halos. It was my idea to come here, but my mom thought of the cookies."

Daniel's smile disappeared as he shifted his gaze from Parker to Traci. Moving away from the child, he came toward her, and she resisted the urge to step back. He no longer seemed amused.

"Good God, woman," he whispered. "Why on earth did you bring me angels?"

To be continued...



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