hELlooO!!!.... I've got a nice day today!!!... I've got lots 'n lots of mails and cards from somebody's spaecial and I feel soo giddy....YAY!!!.. hehehe... anyways.... How 'bout a taste from my dream, ne? Here It is!!!.... Thou expected, somebody's going to cut my head after this.... hehehe... PEACE KAYE!!!.... It's coldin here,... mou.... and really smelly.... cookin' BULAD!!!!... hahaha.... sorry I'm on a diet, so no eating today... period...

LOVE YA, DAVE!!!!....

"I had a wonderful time today, Pa," Aoi said sleepily as he carried her into her room and laid her on the bed. She yawned, then asked, "Can we go again soon?"

"We'll see, pet." He kissed her forehead, at the same time brushing the stray locks of black hair away from her forehead.

"It was … Fun … to skate … again." Her eyes fluttered closed. She yawned a second time. "Lots of … fun."

Natsume smiled tenderly as he straightened. It had been fun for him to see her skate again, too. Well, she hadn't actually skated, but he had helped her put on her skates, and then he and Mikan had slid her around the pond, holding her upright between them. To be honest, he'd been surprised at the amount of strength and control she'd shown. She wasn't anywhere close to being able to skate – or even stand – by herself, but he understood now why Mikan was so helpful of a complete recovery.

Aoi rolled onto her side, taking the blankets with her. "Pa …"

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad Aunt Mikan came to … live with us."

"Me, too, pet." He straightened the blankets, then leaned down to her one more time. "Me, too."

He extinguished the lamp before leaving the room. He paused just outside the bedroom door, his eyes quickly finding Mikan.

She was sitting close to the wood stove mending of her shirts, a tiny frown puckering the delicate skin between her eyebrows. A soft green shawl lay over her shoulders. She wore a gown the same color as her eyes, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders. It was the first time he'd seen it that way, and he was tempted to go over to her, to touch the fine tresses and see if they were as soft as they looked.

She glanced up. A smile curved the corners of her mouth. "Is Aoi asleep?"

It seemed so right for her to be sitting there, asking that question.

He nodded wordlessly.

She laid her mending. "I was afraid she was going to fall asleep at the supper table. She was terribly tires. It was a big day for her."

He'd like to see her sitting there every night.

"It was a wonderful day for me, too, Natsume." Her voice was as soft as a gentle summer rain. "Thanks."

He'd like to see her sitting there every night for the rest of his life.

Natsume turned abruptly toward the kitchen and went to pour himself a cup of coffee. He noticed his hand was shaking as he picked up the blue-speckled pot. He wasn't surprised. It wasn't everyday a man like him thought about marriage.

He splashed coffee onto his hand and grimaced as it scalded his skin.

"Damn!" he swore beneath his breath.

Marriage! He had to be out of his mind. He hadn't found one moment of happiness in his marriage to Luna. If it hadn't been for Aoi …

"Let me look at that."

He turned, surprised to find her standing beside him.

She took hold of his hand, cradling it in her own. "Cold water will help ease the pain." She led him over to the sink. She placed his hand beneath the faucet and began to pump the handle. "Leave it there," she said when he started to pull away.

She was so close he could smell her orange blossom cologne. The fragrance seemed to rise up on sweet cloud, circling his head, filling his nostrils.

"Mikan …"

Her name was little more than a dry croak in his throat, yet it sent a wave of shivers rippling through her body. She swallowed, almost apprehensively, before turning to look up at him. There was no mistaking the desire she saw burning in his eyes.

Mikan held her breath as Natsume's hands closed around her upper arms. Slowly he drew her closer to him. Even more slowly, his head lowered toward hers. The touch of his lips against hers was infinitely gentle, yet it started a violent storm in her heart.

In all too short time, he released her mouth, drawing back just far enough that he could gaze into her eyes. She saw him gathering his resistance, knew that in another moment he would be apologizing for kissing her. But she didn't wasn't his apologies.

Mikan's hand slid up his chest as she rose on tiptoe. She was guided only by instinct, for never before had she felt this way about a man. Pulling his head down to hers, she put her heart and soul into the kiss as her body pressed against his.

She heard the growl deep in his throat, then felt his arms closing thightly around her. Her world began to spin, and she gave herself up to a wellspring of new emotions and sensations.

When his tongue danced across her lips, she opened her mouth, letting out a tiny gasp of surprise and, at the same time, allowing him entrance. Never had she been kissed so intimately. Instinctively she began to pull away from him, but he held her close, and soon she allowed her own tongue to dart forward to touch his.

Her knees grew weak. A strange ache formed in her loins. Her breathing grew labored. Passion – a feeling so foreign to her – exploded in a flash of heat and bright colors, sweeping away all reason and caution.

She longed for him to caress her. She longed for him to touch all the untouched places of her body. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers. She knew all the clinincal facts, but now she ached to experience lovemaking as a woman. She ached to experience it with this one man whom she loved beyond reason.

She found herself almost gasping for air as his mouth moved away from hers. He trailed kisses down the column of her throat. She let her head fall back, offering him the sensitive flesh.

"Oh, Natsume … Natsume …"

Having him hold her, knowing he wanted her, was more wonderful than anything she'd ever known. If only he would say the worlds she longed to hear, she would never have to go back to Chicago. She would stay right here with Natsume and Aoi.

Mikan's eyes flew open as her head turned toward the child's bedroom door. As always, Natsume had left it ajar. What if Aoi had heard them? What if …

"Natsume …" she whispered, pressing against his shoulders. "Natsume, stop. We … we Musn't."

He released her so suddenly she nearly fell to the floor. Stumbling backward, she gripped then edge of the sink to regain her balance. When she looked at his face, she found him without expression. It was as if he'd shared none of the wild emotions she'd been feeling – and still felt.

"I'm sorry, Mikan. You're right. I shouldn't have done that." He spun around, strode toward the door, and left the house, not even pausing to put on his coat.

"Natsume." She whispered.

She was answered with silence.

He was shaking all over by the time he reached the barn, but it wasn't because of the cold. He barely felt the frigid temperatures in a body on fire with desire.

No, the shaking was brought on by his realization of how close he'd come to being swept away by the selfsame lust that had torn apart his life once before. He'd acted like a kid of eighteen without enough sense to see trouble when it was right in front of his face.

Perhaps he did love Mikan. Perhaps there was more to his wanting her than simple lust. But she'd never given any reason to believe she returned his feelings. She'd made it clear that her intentions were to return to Chicago. Did he want another unwilling wife, resenting him for making her live so far from the life she'd had in Chicago? Besides, unlike her stepsister, Mikan was most surely a virgin. If he were to take her to his bed, she would surely feel obligated to marry him – and then she would grow to hate him.

Natsume dank onto a bale of hay and cradled his head in his hands. He didn't know what to do. He'd probably already done too much. More than likely, as soon as he'd slammed out of the house, she'd started packing that carpetbag of hers. She'd be demanding that he take her to town for the first train east.

Lord, he was going to miss her when she was gone. He would miss hearing her cheerful greeting in the morning. He would miss looking at her across the table. He would miss seeing the way her auburn hair fell over her shoulders, and he would miss the sparkle in her brown eyes.

He straightened as his gaze turned toward the closed barn door.

What was he doing, giving up so easily? If he'd given up at the first sign of trouble when it came to farming, he'd be back stocking shelves in a mercantile somewhere. Was he going to let the first woman he'd ever loved just walk out of his life without even trying to keep her with him? He'd be darned if he would.

For some crazy reason, he thought of the angel in the mail order catalog. Aoi thought that Mikan looked like the angel, and he'd begun to think so, too. He'd begun to hope …

And why shouldn't he hope? Christmas was a season of love. It was a time of miracles. Maybe, just maybe, this was his season of love.

Mikan was still awake when she heard Natsume reenter the house later. Hidden in the darkness of her bedroom, the door closed between them, she imagined him crossing the parlor. In her mind, she witnessed him performing all his routine bedtime tasks before he climbed the ladder to the loft.

Feeling sick at heart, she rolled onto her side, turning her back toward the door. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, but it wouldn't come. Instead, the memory of his kisses replayed ion her mind, time and time again.

She pressed her hands over her ears, as if that would help to drive out the unwelcome thoughts. She mentally repeated all the things she'd learned in her nursing studies and from her married friends.

A man's physical need for a woman was a strong force. It was God's way of making certain that the race multiplied. It was not necessary for a man to feel love or affection for a woman in order for him to engage in intercourse with her. Just because Natsume kissed her didn't mean he felt anything beyond a natural, basic desire to lie with a woman. Any woman. He was, after all, still in love with her wife he'd lost.

Luna … Fiery, beautiful, red-haired Luna. What mortal man could ever forget her? And what man would be satisfied with a woman as plain and faded as Mikan after he'd loved someone like her stepsister?

Besides, it was Mikan's own fault that things had almost gone beyond kissing. When she'd felt Natsume trying to regain control of the situation, it had been she who'd thrown herself back into his arms. If she hadn't remembered that Aoi was there in the house …

Her cheeks flamed hot at the memory of her wanton behavior. What must he think of her?

I'm sorry, Mikan … I shouldn't have done that … The rejection in his voice had been so cold, so complete. I'm sorry, Mikan … I shouldn't have done that.

She would have to leave now. She couldn't wait until her father sent money for another nurse to replace her. She would simply have to leave on the earliest train to Chicago. She couldn't live in the same house with Nastume any longer. Not without bringing more heartache to herself – and perhaps others – than she already had.