He glanced down at his pressed gray slacks and black shirt. Twenty minutes ago as he'd splashed on Cool Water cologne and checked the mirror, he'd thought he looked pretty good. But now he was plain vanilla to her blueberry supreme.

As he escorted her to his car her skirt swished against the side of his legs. "Are you going to be embarrassed with an ordinary guy from the twenty-first century?"

"Don't be silly. I'm just glad you agreed to come." She slid onto the passenger seat and tucked her heavy skirts with a feminine grace he found alluring. Chin tilted up toward him, she said, "You're going to love the Victorian Walk, I promise."

He held up a finger to stop the promise word, but dropped it again when she laughed. She'd made the promise on purpose to rile him. Nothing could rile him tonight. Nothing except his great-aunt, who'd made kissing noises when he told her he would be with Sophie. The old woman was incorrigible.

Ida June had also stirred the crazy thoughts he'd been fighting of late. Sophie B., her scent, her cookie-sweet voice, her gentle ways lingered in his head even when he was arguing with child protective services about Davey's welfare.

Ida June was pushing him to adopt, but what kind of dad would he be? A messed-up, cynical cop who chafed at Christmas celebrations? Davey didn't need that. Besides, Kade was single. A boy needed a mother. Which brought Kade back full circle to the woman in the passenger's bucket seat.

He had feelings for her. Big-time. She didn't deserve that, either.

"How long is our shift?" He put the car in Reverse and backed from her driveway. The engine rumbled, but he didn't downshift and floor it to show off the powerful engine. Sophie wouldn't be impressed.

"Only an hour. We'll have a fun time, you'll see."

Forget Christmas. Forget cookies and wassail. He already was, he thought as he drove through the quiet, radiantly decorated neighborhoods toward town center.

Beside him Sophie chattered brightly, filling him in on local color, including a pretty cool story of the town's founder.

"Redemption," she said, "was born during the Land Run of 1889. One day this was nothing but prairie." She made graceful gestures toward the landscape. "The next day, the population exploded with tents and wagons and makeshift structures that became a fledgling town."

"Hard to imagine."

"Exciting," she said, sparkling like a jewel beneath the passing streetlights. "And meaningful, too. The man who founded the center of town and bought up claims to make the rest was Jonas Case."

Kade glanced from the road to her, a pleasant tickle in his chest. "What's meaningful about that?"

Not that he cared, but he liked hearing her enthusiastic recitation.

"Jonas Case squandered his youth as a gunslinger. Purportedly, a very efficient gunslinger."

"My kind of man. Be good at what you do."

She made a noise in the back of her throat. "You would have chased him down and arrested him."

"Probably," he said with a smirk.

"At some point, Jonas saw the error of his ways and gave his heart to the Lord. He stopped shooting people and began to preach."

"He was still sending people to meet their maker, just in a different way."

The comment had the effect he'd hoped for. Sophie's laughter filtered over him like rays of June sun.

"I never thought of it that way, but you're right. He was." Skirts billowing over the console, she angled toward him. "Apparently, he had a hard time fitting in, even after he cleaned up his act. People shunned him because of his past."

"Figures."

"So he started Redemption for folks like himself. Outcasts, misfits, those looking for a place to belong, a place to start again in peace and acceptance."

Kade had been enjoying the history lesson, but the parallels between his situation and the gunslinger's hit close to home.

"I saw the scripture at the town well."

"'Come unto me, all you who are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,'" she recited. "Jonas dug the well. He and others engraved the stone as a permanent reminder of why Redemption exists."

Redemption. Kade ruminated on the word. Some men didn't deserve Redemption. Maybe he was one of them.

He fell silent, but if Sophie noticed, she was determined to draw him into her celebratory mood.

When they reached the rambling old Newspaper Museum and exited the car, he spotted other ladies in Victorian dress, cowboys, pioneers, and thought he might as well join in. Anything for Sophie.

He offered his elbow. Sophie placed a gloved hand in the crook, a simple, unaffected action, but a fierce protective pride welled in Kade. He might not be a gunslinger, but he took care of his own.

He tugged her close to his side, smiled when she glanced up. Tonight she was with him.

Dangerous ground, a warning voice whispered.

He drew his imaginary six-gun and shot it down.

When they climbed the tall steps, the door swept open and a dapper gent in top hat and a long, fitted coat greeted them. Everyone knew Sophie. Or so it seemed.

"Good evening, sir. Miss Bartholomew," the man said, doffing his hat.

"Evening, Mr. Martinelli."

Sophie's pretty curtsy and happy giggle tickled the inside of Kade's chest.

"Are we in a time machine?" he murmured next to her sweet-smelling ear.

"Maybe." Her eyes shone light gray, dappled blue and gold by the overhead light. "I told you Christmas in Redemption was fun."

They entered a huge space lit by dozens of Christmas trees. The smell of wassail and pine hung in the air, thick and warm, a welcome respite from outdoors.

"Don't you love those trees?" she asked, motioning with arms that rustled satin and velvet. "They're hand-decorated, homemade, the way they would have been in the early days of Redemption."

She led him to a stately pine adorned with lacy white crocheted figures and then to another heavy with spicy-smelling cookie ornaments.

"Don't tell me you made this one?" he joked.

She sparkled at him. "I wish I'd thought of it."

When she looked at him that way, he got lost. He was out of his element, as if his skin didn't quite fit his bones. All these people, all this decency.

"Christmas was simpler then. More personal and caring, I think." With one finger, Sophie tapped a glittery ball of glued yarn. "Someone's hands took the time to make this. To fill this tree with love."

Kade battled the usual cynical thoughts. Anything was more personal than mass-mailed ecards and mall Santas who charged to take a kid's picture.

But Sophie didn't deserve his bad attitude. Christmas did seem different here in Redemption. Sure, the town glittered and merchants hawked their sales like anywhere else, but there was something else here, too. Something better, gentler, more caring.

That was it, he thought as he watched a smiling teenager twirl a younger child in an impromptu dance. People cared.

It was enough to make a man want to celebrate.

He might even break down and buy a few presents.

Astonished at his thoughts, he let Sophie guide him through the enormous old building. They took a while because Sophie being Sophie greeted everyone along the way and introduced him until his head swam with names and faces he'd never remember.

"Good thing we came early," he said after shaking hands with a firefighter named Zak and the local vet. He would remember those two. Nice guys.

"Can't leave you a stranger," she said, and he didn't stop to wonder why it mattered.

Eventually they arrived at the far end of the room where a section of long tables spread down one wall. In the center a giant punch bowl steamed with what he assumed was wassail, although the smell was suspiciously like apple juice. On either side of the bowl, homemade cookies were piled high on giant platters.

"Fifth-grade cookies?" he asked, mostly joking.

"Some are. The town council bought twenty dozen and others are donated by local bakers. Aren't they beautiful?"

"Can't argue that." The whole place was Christmas-beautiful, though not nearly as pretty as Sophie. She sparkled tonight, more glittery than any gilded ornament. "Let me taste test to be sure."

She poked a cookie in his mouth.

He chewed and swallowed while she laughed at his surprise.

His heart did ridiculous things in his chest.

Whoa, boy. It's only a cookie.

Right, and Sophie was only a woman.

She offered a ridiculously dainty cup of wassail to wash down the peanut butter. He sipped, wondering if he should stick out his pinky and make her laugh some more. He did and Sophie didn't disappoint.

The wassail, however, did. Apple juice and spices. Was that what wassail was?

The trickle of revelers entering the building seemed more enchanted by the juice than he. He found himself dipping and doling nonstop.

Not that he was complaining. A man would be nuttier than he was not to enjoy a date with Sophie.

Together they chatted up the visitors and doled out refreshments. He hadn't talked this much since the last time he'd been on the witness stand and some defense attorney had badgered him for hours. Tonight's conversation was decidedly more pleasant.

Kade was getting into the spirit of the evening when Sophie's principal appeared. Maybe Kade was imagining things, but he had a feeling old stiff-shirt Gruber didn't like him much.

The feeling was mutual.

"McKendrick," Gruber said stiffly, his glance quickly dismissing Kade in favor of Sophie. Kade couldn't fault him for his taste. "Sophie."

"Cookies and wassail, Biff?" she said with more courtesy than Kade felt. What was it about the principal that set his teeth on sandpaper?

"You look lovely tonight."

"Thank you." She dropped a curtsy. Kade wished she wouldn't do that. Not for Gruber anyway. "I see you're into the spirit of Christmas, as well."

Did she have to be nice to everyone?

"Doing my part." Gruber, the peacock, preened in a shiny gold vest. Sissy color, if you asked Kade. A watch chain-a fob-dangled from an inner pocket.

Peacock, Kade thought again, this time with more vehemence. Go play in traffic.

But Gruber wanted to linger. Imagine that? "We have a nice night for the festivities."

Kade's small, irritated noise brought a reproving glance from Sophie. He ignored her. Was Gruber a total idiot?

The temperature was freezing.

Painfully agreeable, Sophie said, "As nice as ever."

Why didn't she tell him to buzz off?

The overdressed peacock lingered longer, nibbling at a gingerbread man. He nibbled. Not bit. Not gobbled. Nibbled. Daintily. Like a girl. What kind of a man nibbled?

"Your class made these?" Gruber asked, one imperious eyebrow arched.

No, Kade thought sarcastically. Santa brought them in his sleigh so you could stand here and annoy the prettiest woman in the building.

But Sophie the diplomat said, "They did. Aren't they delicious? We've made almost a thousand dollars profit so far."

"Commendable," the principal murmured with a smile as fake as his mustache. Kade had the juvenile urge to give it a yank.

Instead, he showed his teeth in something less than a smile. More like a dog about to bite. "I think someone over there is waving at you, Gruber." Way over there. South of the Mexican border.

"Really?" Biff looked to Sophie, whose cheeks reddened and eyes bugged as though she wanted to laugh. When she managed a weak smile, he set his half-finished punch cup on the table and said with a hint of threat-at least, Kade took it that way-"Enjoy your evening, Sophie. We'll discuss your project further on Monday."

When he'd made a hasty exit, Sophie whirled toward Kade with a hiss of suppressed laughter. "I can't believe you did that."

He lifted a lazy shoulder. "Gone but not forgotten. The gone is all I cared about."

"You're terrible." She whapped his arm for good measure.

He rubbed the spot. "Worse than terrible."

She had no idea.

"I have to admit I'm glad he left," she said. "He was acting a little odd tonight."

"Only tonight?"

"Kade," she admonished but she giggled, too.