Delaney stood in one of the six guest suites. She'd left the light out. She hadn't been cleaning in here today, which meant her wedding ring wasn't in here.

She'd just needed a place to hide, and the bedroom had been just down the hall from the party.

What was she doing?

Being an idiot, obviously.

She'd allowed herself to get distracted. By Cash.

What had she been thinking, trying to prove something?

All she'd proved was her own idiocy.

The way he'd held her during those two dances... The way he'd looked at her!

It was heady, having that much intensity directed at her.

We should go riding sometime.

Her grand—hasty—plan to humiliate the man had been forgotten because of his smoky gaze. She'd been lapping it up like a thirsty puppy. Flattered by his interest. Considered saying yes to his invitation to go riding.

Until the Jeffersons had approached and reality had crashed around her.

Do you know Delaney?

Why, yes. She cleans our house. Scrubs our toilets and picks up the trash we’re too lazy to pick up. Does the jobs no one else wants to do.

She'd run before her little charade was revealed. She'd wanted to humiliate Cash, but the joke was on her. Now he'd know just who he'd been holding in his arms. Who he’d been smiling at as if she were the only person in the world.

And she was the one suffering humiliation. Again.

She shouldn't have let herself get distracted. She'd forgotten the one thing that mattered.

Get the ring.

Get out.

Forget about Cash and the warmth in his eyes when he'd looked at her.

The bedroom door opened, a rectangle of light spilling on the floor.

For one heart-pounding moment, she had the wild thought that Cash had come to find her. Would he confront her again, kick her out?

But it was a slight woman who slipped into the room, closing the door behind her.

She didn't turn on the lights.

Delaney knew the room's layout and had stationed herself across from the hallway door, nearer the bathroom.

She heard movement, the other woman's dress rustling. Then a small cry.

Whoever it was had knocked into the bed. Delaney knew the sharp metal frame beneath the fluffy coverlet, because she'd banged her knee on it before.

"Ouch. Are you okay?" Delaney asked.

There was a beat of silence.

"Yeah. I'm f-fine." The woman's voice broke.

Delaney felt a stirring of compassion.

She stepped to the attached bathroom and flipped on the light, lighting the room peripherally.

Sometimes the overhead light was too much. Didn't she know it?

The woman sniffed, hiding her face in her hands. Poor soul.

Delaney stepped into the bathroom, Sierra's pinchy heels tapping on the tiled floor. She retrieved some tissues from the box where she'd artfully folded the top tissue two days ago.

When she returned to the bedroom, the woman was still right where she'd been before. The soft light illuminated a stunning red dress and heels.

But the dejected set of the other woman's shoulders told it all.

"Th-thanks," she whispered when Delaney handed her the tissues.

Red Dress sat on the end of the bed, dissolving into tears.

Crud. Had Delaney made things better or worse?

She couldn't just leave. Not when somebody was hurting badly enough to leave in the middle of a party. Not when someone was crying like this.

Because a stranger had once sat next to her when Delaney had had her own meltdown.

She sat on the end of the bed next to Red Dress, who couldn't seem to stop crying.

She waited, like the stranger had over a year ago. Prayed that her presence was a comfort.

When Red Dress's tears slowed, Delaney asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

Red Dress mopped her face with the tissues. "I d-don't think so." She hiccuped.

"Can I call someone for you? Your husband? Or boyfriend? Sister? Mom?"

Red Dress laughed through her tears, the sound slightly hysterical. "None of those."

Delaney didn't say anything as Red Dress took several deep breaths. She'd calmed considerably.

"I'll be all right," Red Dress said.

Delaney got a better look at her blotchy, makeup-smeared face but didn't recognize her.

But she recognized the dejection in her expression. Had seen it in the mirror earlier this afternoon.

"Is it man trouble?" Delaney asked gently.

Red Dress gave another teary laugh. "That obvious?"

Delaney sighed. "Just a feeling. I'm having some of that kind of trouble myself."

Seriously, what had she been thinking trying to get close to Cash? He'd proved earlier in the day that they were too different to get along. He'd never even looked at her when he'd fired her.

He’d looked at her when he'd danced with her tonight, but that had only confused things.

"Why does it have to be so hard?" Delaney thought aloud. "Actually, my situation is kinda my fault."

Red Dress sighed. "The man I've been in love with for months just told me about a friend he wants to set me up with."

"Ouch. That sucks."

But Delaney couldn't help wondering. "Did he name this friend, or was it more like, 'I've got this friend...'" She shifted on the bed. "Just curious."

"The latter." Red Dress wiped beneath her eyes with the tissue.

"I don't know your situation," Delaney said, "but this could be a situation where your guy was talking about himself."

"What?" She couldn't be imagining the note of hope in Red Dress's voice.

"Is there any reason he might not want to come on too strong?"

Red Dress considered. "I nanny for his son."

"Aha." Someone deserved happiness for Christmas. Why not Red Dress? "Maybe he wanted to broach the idea without you knowing it was him, to feel things out. Then if you said no, it wasn't an outright rejection."

"I don't know," Red Dress said slowly. "I mean, he did ask me if I was dating anyone. But then he told me about this friend of his. Who was shy." She paused. "He's a widower," she said softly.

It sounded just like a made-for-TV movie.

"So, there you go," Delaney said. "Maybe he was uncomfortable just coming right out and asking you out. There's only one way to find out. Ask him outright."

She saw the skepticism cross Red Dress's face. "I should go home," she said. "I'm pretty sure my makeup is ruined."

"Oh, I can fix that."

Delaney pulled her reluctant new friend into the bathroom.

She rummaged in her purse. "Here we go." She handed Red Dress a packet of makeup wipes. "Those babies will take anything off."

The other woman hesitated before taking them. "I don't even know your name."

"I'm Delaney." She smiled.

"I'm Amber. Nice to meet you."

Amber leaned over the counter as she used the makeup wipe beneath her eyes. She sighed and began scrubbing at her entire face.

"Our skin tones aren't a match, but I think I can fix your eye makeup," Delaney offered.

"I think I'll just go like this. I've taken up too much of your night. You're missing the party."

Delaney grimaced. "Yeah..." Now it was her turn to sigh. "I'm not exactly on the guest list."

The idiocy of her actions hit her all over again.

She'd never have known what it felt like to be held by Cash if she hadn't shown up tonight.

And wouldn't have known what it felt like to miss it.

"And not being on the guest list is why I'm having man troubles."

Amber shook her head, confusion on her expression.

But Delaney just gave her a gentle push toward the door. "Don't worry about me. You go get your guy." At least someone could have a Christmas romance.

Delaney almost made it out.

She hadn’t found her ring. It was past time to give up. She’d phone Mallory after the holiday and ask if she could come back and search the house. Tonight was a loss.

She'd skirted the ballroom without running into Cash and had almost reached the front entrance and the foyer where the coat check had been set up.

And then a hand clamped down on her wrist.

"Wh—"

She barely had a chance to look back before the predatory guy from earlier gave her a none-too-gentle nudge in the back. She stumbled in the heels, but he used the momentum she'd already built up to push her into a shadowed hallway.

"Let go of me," she cried out.

She'd only had a glimpse of the ugly gleam in his eyes, but it was enough. She didn't care if she made a scene.

She didn't want whatever ugly thing he was thinking.

He pushed her against the wall, still holding her wrist and now twisting it painfully. "You thought you'd be rid of me that easily? Maybe no one else recognized you all dolled up like that, but I know exactly who you are. We both know you don’t belong here."

The words were spoken too close to her face. His hot breath stunk of alcohol, and she saw the slightly wild look in his eyes. She did recognize him. Had seen him once when she’d cleaned for his parents. He’d been scruffy and unshaven and dressed like the loser son he apparently was.

And she knew he never would’ve dared touch her if she’d been one of the high-society women.

You don’t belong here.

"Where's your pretty boy rancher to rescue you now?" he taunted her.

"Help!" she cried out. Surely the coat-check attendant could hear. They weren't that far down the hall.

And then his hot, sweaty hand came up to press over her mouth, his wrist pushing her jaw. With his bigger body pressing her into the wall, there was no space, nowhere to go.

She struggled anyway, fighting against his hold. She screamed with his hand over her lower face until her throat and lungs burned. If she could just get one hand loose—

She couldn't breathe—

And then he was gone. He spun away—no, he'd been thrown off of her.

By Cash, who knocked her attacker against the opposite wall. The man’s shoulder and head hit with a satisfying thud.

She gasped in a breath, then another. Her windpipe felt as if it were on fire.

"Andy!" Cash roared over his shoulder, and another cowboy in a suit and dress boots rushed from the party.

Delaney felt raw, laid bare. She turned her back, not wanting to be seen, now that her attacker's hands were off of her. She straightened her dress, thankful that the skinny spaghetti straps had held. Adrenaline rushed through her pounding bloodstream. She had to close her eyes against relieved tears—or maybe they were an after-effect of the fear that had nearly immobilized her.

What if Cash hadn't come?

Over the roaring in her ears she heard him speaking, presumably to his friend Andy. "Get this"—expletive—"out of here. I know you're off duty, but if I have to wait on the sheriff—" His voice got lower or maybe her breaths got louder as she tried to contain the sobs that wanted so badly to escape.

I'm okay. I'm okay.

But she couldn't seem to push away from where she leaned against the wall. It was holding her upright. It was a very polite wall.

"Delaney." He was right there behind her, his voice incredibly soft. "Honey, I'm scared to touch you."

She couldn't catch her breath to tell him to shove off. Or to tell him she was okay.

Her emotions were a rioting mess. She didn't want his touch. Did she?

There was a rustle of clothing behind her, and then, "I'm just going to wrap my jacket around your shoulders. Delaney?"

Somewhere, she found the strength to nod.

Warmth stole through her as his man-sized tuxedo jacket slipped over her shoulders. She didn't feel the press of his hands.

His jacket was warm from his body and smelled like him. And she desperately needed to erase the memory of the hot stink of alcohol, so she breathed in deeply.

Just taking the one breath calmed her. A smidgen, but she'd take it.

So she did it again, burying her nose in his lapel.

"Do you need a doctor?"

She shook her head in reply to his soft question. She didn't want anyone else to see her like this, broken and raw.

"Can you turn around at least, so I can see for myself? Please?"

Earlier, she'd imagined his please, imagined him begging for a kiss.

This please, delivered in a voice so raw and hurt that it made more tears sting her eyes... this please, she couldn't deny.

She turned to face him, lifting her chin. Except, she couldn't contain its wobble.

His eyes... he looked as if he were burning up from the inside out. He scanned her face, down her body. Her wrist ached where the attacker had yanked and wrenched it. But she didn't think she'd have other bruises. Except the one on her soul.

"Do you need a doctor?" he asked again.

"I'm—" fine. She couldn't get the word out. Her face crumpled, and to her consternation, she reached for him.

He pulled her in tight, his ranch-strong arms coming tightly around her. Hers went around his waist, and she pressed her face to his chest.

Right now, she didn't care if he knew her identity. She just needed to be held.

And hold her he did. She hadn't felt protected, cherished like this since Jonah.

Some of the tension that had faded in Cash's embrace returned. What was she thinking?

She backed away, and he quickly let her go.

Cash didn't think of her the way Jonah had. This afternoon, he'd treated her like pond scum.

Her emotions were all over the place. That was the only explanation for caving in to his embrace.

"I need to go home."

Cash's expression filled with concern. "You should probably sit down for a minute. I think the sheriff's office is going to want to talk to you."

"No. No—I don't want to press charges." Her attacker was well-connected. She wasn't. If word got around, she could lose more jobs. With no income, what would she and Evan do?

Cash's eyes were dark. "If you don't, I will. He came into my house and assaulted one of my guests."

Except she wasn't a guest. Not really.

"I think he'd had too much to drink. That's all." Her eyes skipped over his shoulder as she said the words. Yes, the man had smelled like alcohol, but she'd recognized the predatory look in his eyes the moment she'd run into him in the ballroom.

Cash crossed his arms over his broad chest. Without his jacket on, the white shirt he wore stretched over miles of muscles. "Somebody acts that way in a crowded party, no telling what they'll do in a dark parking lot. He'll face this, whether it's you or me who makes it happen."

And to heck with what you want.

That message came through loud and clear. Cash would get his way, even if he had to bulldoze over her.

But where earlier she might've fired back at him, argued, she was too raw and broken to form a single word.

And his macho-man act was just a reminder of who he really was. And how different they were.

She slipped his jacket off her shoulders, shivering a little at the rush of cooler air against her bare skin.

"Thanks," she whispered.

She skirted around him.

Cash did his best to curb the caveman roaring inside him. Mine.

Some jerk had touched Delaney. Hurt her.

Dude was lucky Cash hadn't bashed his face in.

He'd wanted to.

He hoped Andy had knocked his head on the frame of his squad car.

All the adrenaline rushing through Cash's system wasn't helping him here.

Delaney was walking away, heading for the foyer and the coat check.

He'd said something wrong. Watched as her walls had come up, her lashes had flicked down and hidden her eyes from him.

She didn't want to report an assault like that? A few minutes later and who knew what the jerk would've done to her? Who knew what he might do to the next woman?

And Cash didn't think she was refusing in order to protect the guy.

Somehow, she was trying to protect herself.

"Wait," he said. "Please."

But she barely glanced over her shoulder. Her heels now clicked against the tile in the fancy foyer his great-grandparents had built.

She said something to the coat check guy, handed him a ticket and a folded bill.

He should let her go. She was shaken up, but he didn't see any visible injuries. If she said she was okay, he had to believe her, right?

Everything inside him screamed don't let her go.

He'd once asked Dad when he'd known Mama was the one for him. And Dad had smiled this secret smile and said "you'll know." Cash had been angry, thought Dad was just putting him off.

But what he was feeling tonight was real. He just knew.

That he didn't want Delaney to walk out of here. Not like this.

Maybe not ever.

Coat Check Guy had ducked into the rows of coat racks on their rented stands. This might be Cash's only chance.

"Delaney..."

She looked over her shoulder at him. Her eyes were hooded.

He hated putting himself out there. He never took the risky bet. But he also hated the thought of her walking out. "I think we've got something going here, don't you?"

Those moments when she'd been in his arms for their dance had been incredible. Every second was burned into his brain, a sparkling memory for all time.

But when she'd been in his arms just now... something had happened to him. Connected them.

Disbelief crossed her face. She turned to face him directly.

He experienced a moment of doubt at her expression. No. What was between them was real, even if she couldn't admit it yet.

"I'll drive you home," he blurted. That would give him at least another twenty minutes to press his case. The Double Cross was a good ten minutes out of town. With the snow on the road, he'd have to drive slowly and carefully.

"No."

Her refusal rocked him back. He shook his head, felt muzzy as if he'd been punched.

"C'mon. You can't deny there's something between us."

Her disbelief transformed into something more. She stepped toward him, her eyes now snapping with ice. "You don't even know who I am." She laughed a little, but there was nothing funny about it.

She'd been shocked at him earlier. It was clear she was still mad about it.

"So tell me," he said. Because whatever she had to say, he could fix it, if only he knew. "Who are you?"

"I'm the maid you fired earlier today."

Her words didn't make sense to him. The maid...?

And then the ugly truth hit him in the face like a two-by-four.

He scanned her up and down. Gone was the woman in slim jeans and a way-too-baggy polo shirt. Gone was the loose ponytail, gone were the shaggy bangs.

In her place was an elegant woman in a hot dress and heels whose hair was mussed from her ordeal.

How come he hadn't seen it before?

Shame rushed over him. Had he even looked her in the face earlier? He’d been so caught up in trying to fix the mistake he’d made, he hadn’t paid close attention to the woman in his way.

"I didn't fire you," he said. Lame. So sue him, he was still reeling.

Her lips parted in extreme skepticism.

Before he could wrap his brain around what she'd said, Coat Check Dude was there, holding out a worn black peacoat. Perfect timing, Dude.

She slid one arm into the coat, but Cash wasn't done. Not by a long shot.

"So what was tonight, then? Did you come here to humiliate me?"

A shadow of guilt chased across her face, but her lips firmed. She definitely wasn't smiling at him. "I lost my wedding ring today. The Double Cross was the only place I've been, so it has to be somewhere in the rooms I cleaned today."

Wedding ring. The hits just kept coming. She was married?

He couldn't breathe as she went on.

"I thought I could sneak through the party without anyone noticing, find the ring, and go home. Believe me, I didn't want to run into you."

The way she said the word left no uncertainty about her feelings toward him.

"Did you find it?" he asked hoarsely.

She tied off her belt, not looking at him. Shook her head.

When she looked up, the ice queen from their first—no, second meeting—was back. "If you or Mallory finds it, I'd appreciate a call. I'll come get it." She gritted her teeth as she admitted, "It's important to me."

Of course it was.

She didn't wait for an answer, just turned and walked out the front door, leaving him with a blast of cold in his face and feeling like a fool.

He was an idiot.