Suddenly, a male voice rumbled behind her. "What the h.e.l.l is this?"

TWENTY-ONE.

Leo's tongue immediately vacated Sarah's mouth and then his body spun away from her.

"Sam," she stuttered.

Sam was too busy socking Leo in the face to hear her. Leo staggered back against the counter with such force he tipped over the wine bottle. It rolled off the counter and landed with a gla.s.sy crash on the floor, spraying wine all over the trio's feet.

Leo put a hand to his cheek and another up to ward off a fresh attack. "Hey, that's a.s.sault. I could sue you."

"Yeah? You just try that and we'll talk about how you a.s.saulted my wife."

a.s.saulted? Sarah's legs suddenly felt weak.

"I wasn't a.s.saulting her. I was giving her what she wants. She obviously hasn't been happy with you in a long time," Leo added.

Okay, Leo Steele was definitely a lunatic. Sam was a big man, and now, puffed up with anger, he looked like the Incredible Hulk. No man in his right mind would want to make him madder than he already was.

"Get out of here, you little c.o.c.kroach," Sam snarled. "If I ever catch you on my property again I'll have you arrested for trespa.s.sing."

"Fine," Leo spat. "Your loss," he told Sarah. Then he turned and stalked out. A moment later the front door slammed after him.

"I should have thrown that little p.i.s.sant out the door," Sam growled.

Sarah slumped against the counter. That was not an experience she wanted to repeat ever again. Thank G.o.d Sam had come home when he did.

She opened her mouth to thank him for riding to the rescue, but before she could say anything, he glared at her and snapped, "What was he doing over here? Is he your latest good deed?"

"What? Sam, he just walked in."

"You honestly expect me to believe that?"

"Yes, actually, I do." Sarah yanked a handful of paper towels off their rack and began blotting up the spilled wine. "I opened the front door and there he was with his little wine bottle and his big ego."

"And you said, what? 'C'mon in. My dumbs.h.i.t husband's not home.' "

"I didn't say anything. He didn't give me a chance." This was not how they should be acting. Sam should be holding her in his arms, comforting her, asking her if she was all right. She marched to the pantry and grabbed the broom and dustpan.

"You had to have done something to encourage him," Sam insisted.

Had her husband actually just said that? "Well, I didn't. He overheard me talking about trying to find a man for Emma and somehow, in his overs.e.xed little brain, he thought I was talking about him. Really, Sam, how could you even think I'd have the bad taste to encourage a lech like that?"

"Oh, so it's 'cause he's a lech that you didn't want to take up with him. If he'd been somebody else, no problem."

A long day topped by a close encounter with Leo the Tongue had left Sarah like baking soda in the drain, just waiting for someone to come pour vinegar on her. She put a hand on one hip and gave Sam the universal welcome-to-the-doghouse look that any husband married longer than six months could recognize. "For such a smart man that was an incredibly dumb thing to say."

Sam had the grace to look chagrined. "I'm sorry, babe. I just saw him kissing you and went berserk. I thought maybe." He stopped and shrugged.

"You thought maybe what?"

"I just thought maybe . . . well, between this guy and George Armstrong, you've had men hanging around here for weeks. I thought you'd had enough of being married to me," he added with a shrug. "It happens, you know."

"Not to us." She came to stand in front of him. "Sam, we've been lovers and best friends since we were nineteen. I would think, after all these years, you could trust me."

"What was I supposed to think when I saw you kissing that moron?" Sam threw up his hands in a helpless gesture. "I don't want to lose you. I don't want some clown to come and sweet-talk you away."

"Oh, really, Sam. As if that's ever going to happen."

"You don't think it could? You haven't been happy since the girls left, and I'm gone a lot. You're still a good-looking woman. And, I'll admit it, I'm a selfish b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he added. "I get jealous of how much of you everyone else gets. I have to share with the bakery, the neighborhood, and every little girl in town, but, d.a.m.n it, Sar, I draw the line at a lech like Steele." He drew her to him. "After all these years, I'm still crazy about you. I guess I'm crazy. Period."

"I guess you are," she agreed, lessening the sting with a smile. "You know you're not off the hook for not trusting me. It's going to cost you for a long time to come. So you'd better plan on taking me out to dinner on Sat.u.r.day."

"Dinner," he repeated.

"And I was looking through the park and rec catalogue. I want to take the dance cla.s.s that starts in January. Salsa."

"Dancing?" He looked like she'd just asked him to lop off an arm.

"You really did hurt my feelings, Sam. The surprise visits, those accusations . . ."

He held up a hand. "Say no more." Then he kissed her and whispered that he loved her. "Thanks for putting up with me all these years. You really are the best thing in my life."

"And you're the best in mine," she a.s.sured him. Her husband had all the qualities a woman wanted in a man. He was kind, generous, and blind. Every day the mirror showed her a woman with expanding hips and falling b.r.e.a.s.t.s and a waistline the size of a tree trunk, and yet Sam still thought she was beautiful and guarded her like treasure.

As she shut the door after her departing husband, though, she wasn't thinking about how lucky she was. She was remembering something he'd said. Did Sam really feel neglected?

Yes, she was busy with the bakery, and when Steph had lived nearby she'd done a lot with the girls. But now that they were gone . . . she was still busy, doing good deeds for everybody in town but her best friend. Maybe instead of putting the heart back in Heart Lake she needed to focus on putting a little more heart in her marriage.

With that thought in mind, she went to the garage where the spare freezer hummed away, preserving her extra meat, bread, and freezer jam, along with the stash of berries she kept to make pies in the winter. She pulled out a carton of blackberries, took it to the kitchen, and got to work.

An hour later she called the station and told the fireman who answered to tell the chief to get home. His wife needed him ASAP.

Exactly seven minutes later Sam burst through the front door, calling her name.

"Out here," she called from the dining room.

He charged down the hall and into the room, skidding to stop. His jaw dropped at the sight of her low-cut black dress. He watched as she set the freshly baked pie on a trivet. "Babe, what's going on?"

She walked around the table and laid a hand on his chest. "Nothing. Yet."

He smiled. "Okay. How about the pie, is that for us?"

"Nope," she said, and enjoyed watching his face fall. "It's for you."

"Yeah?" He was grinning now.

"Want a piece?"

He slipped his arms around her. "Maybe later."

"That's like something out of a sitcom," said Jamie after Sarah told her and Emma about her close encounter with Leo when the women met for chocolate.

"It is now, but, believe me, I wasn't laughing at the time," Sarah said, and took a sip of her mocha. "The nerve of the guy."

Jamie shuddered dramatically. "What would make Leo think you wanted him, insanity?"

"Conceit," said Sarah. "It makes me think of the old fart in Tootsie. 'They call him the Tongue,' " she intoned. "Now, there's a great cla.s.sic movie for you girls to watch," she added.

Jamie nudged Emma, who was at the table with them, but only in body.

"I'm sorry. What?" she said.

Sarah and Jamie exchanged looks.

"You guys, that snow is starting to stick," Emma said. "I'm going to go."

"Do you want to spend the night at my house?" Jamie offered. "If the power goes out we can build a fire in the woodstove."

"Thanks, but no. I should be home in case Pyewacket comes back."

"Call if you need anything," Sarah told her.

She nodded and stood, grabbing her coat and leaving her hot chocolate unfinished. "I'll see you guys."

"There must be something we can do to cheer her up," Jamie said, watching Emma trudge off down the street. Poor Em. First her business, now her cat. A cat, of course. "I know! Why don't we get her a kitten for Christmas? That will cheer her up."

"That's a great idea. It won't save her business, though."

"I don't know what to do about that," said Jamie with a sigh. "I can afford a cat. I can't afford to finance another shop."

"If worse comes to worst and she has to close, I'll hire her," said Sarah.

"At least she won't starve then."

Now Sarah sighed. "Maybe not physically. Poor Emma. She's invested so much of herself in that shop."

Jamie got up and took her mug and Emma's over to the little sink in her work area. "You know, with all the nice things she's done for people, you'd think they'd be a little more loyal. How many quilts do you think she's donated for raffles and auctions in the last year?"

"I've lost count," said Sarah.

Jamie frowned. "This whole Heart Lake Angel thing is a bust as far as I can see."

"Don't give up yet," said Sarah. "People-"

"Are not basically good," Jamie finished for her. Sarah should have figured that out by now.

"I wasn't going to say that," Sarah said patiently. "But I was going to say that people have a lot of good in them, and this time of year tends to bring it out." She glanced out the window. "Oh, that is really starting to stick. Do you want to leave your car here? I can take you home."

It was a kind offer, especially since Sarah hated driving in the snow. "I'll be fine," Jamie a.s.sured her. Her tires would be more like skates than tires but she'd make it if she went slowly.

"You're sure?" Sarah pressed.

"Absolutely."

"Okay. Call me when you get home."

"Yes, mother," Jamie teased.

Sarah pointed a scolding finger at her. "I'm the closest thing you've got up here so don't give me grief." With that parting shot, she hugged Jamie, then hurried off.

Jamie didn't dawdle over her closing-up tasks, but by the time she got out of the shop there was a good two inches of snow on the ground and the dark sky was thick with falling flakes. Oh, boy.

h.o.a.rds of snowflakes hurled themselves at her windshield as she drove away from the shop. A car eased past her, the snow softly shooshing under its tires. Farther up she saw another car already in a ditch. No surprise. With its mild Pacific Northwest weather, Heart Lake didn't get enough snow to turn its residents into expert drivers. Living in California hadn't turned Jamie into an expert, either. She clutched the steering wheel and forced herself to breathe. Just ten minutes. You'll be home in ten minutes.

Who was she kidding? At the speed she was going she'd be lucky to get home in thirty. If she managed to stay on the road. Was it getting slipperier?

"You're fine," she a.s.sured herself. She'd have been finer if she'd taken her trusty charge card to Big Ben's Tires and gotten all-weather tires when she first heard the weather forecast. But she'd thought she had another day. This wasn't supposed to hit till tomorrow. That was what she got for trusting the weatherman.

She crept around the lake. Just a little farther and she'd be in her cabin, feeding the woodstove and heating up a can of chili. Just a little farther and . . . Whoa. Slipping here. Okay, turn into the slip. Except there's a car coming! Panic. Scream. Turn the other way. Slide sideways. Hit the ditch, tip to the right.

Swear.

The other car swooshed on by, its red taillights disappearing behind a rooster tail of snow.

"Okay, don't panic," she told herself. "It's not like you're in the middle of nowhere." It only felt like it. She grabbed her purse from the floor and pulled out her cell phone. No bars, of course. Why had she bothered? She knew there was no cell reception on this stretch of road.

What should she do? Should she get out and walk? She had no parka, no boots. Maybe that wasn't a good idea. She did have a blanket in the trunk. She'd get that out, then put up her car hood as a distress signal.

She popped the hood, pulled the old blanket out of her trunk, and then hustled back inside her car and huddled under it. Mom had always lectured her about having an emergency kit in her car: flares, blanket, water, and some sort of food. Well, she had the flares and she had the water. She wished she'd remembered to replace the stash of Pringles she'd eaten a few months back when money was tight.

Where were Emma and Sarah? Had they made it home okay? They should have all stayed together, just gone to Sarah's and had a big slumber party. It was too late for that, so what to do now? What would Emma do if they were stuck here together? Sing some dopey Christmas song, of course.

Jamie took a stab at it. " 'On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me . . .' " Oh, this was dumb, and it wasn't making her feel any better. She hunched down farther under her blanket and began rewriting the old carol. "Oh, the first thing I'll get with my trusty credit card: four brand-new tires."

Speaking of tires, did she hear the crunch of tires on snow in back of her, the crunch of slowing tires? It was a truck, a big, kick-a.s.s, who-cares-if-it's-snowing truck. Sarah was right. People did have good in them.

Not people. Person. Big, hunky, not-right-for-her Josh Armstrong. What was he doing out of uniform? Who cared? For the first time since they'd met by the side of the road she was glad to see him.

She let down her window. "If you're wondering why I'm stuck here, it's because I saved a life."