She turned on the radio. Christmas music filled the car. She turned it off with a groan.	"It's not going to turn you into an elf if you listen," he promised and liked the smile that played at the corner of her lips, wiggling the small mole that kept drawing his attention.	She glanced at him. "Do you believe in Christmas?"	"I do," he said without hesitation.	"Even after all you've seen and done overseas?"	"Especially because of that...
Dana Marton, Deathwish
romantic-suspense