“You might even be pregnant by then.”
“Whoa, you’re moving a little too fast.”
“Why? You’re getting the best husband money can buy, aren’t you?”
Cassie laughed. She hadn’t thought of it in those terms but Angie was right. She was paying top dollar to meet John-the-engineer; by the same token, he’d been willing to pay top dollar to meet her.
And the one walking away with fistfuls of cash was Simon Dodson.
As far as Cassie was concerned, he would have earned every penny.
Chapter 8
At the end of their brief telephone conversation, Angie had said she’d call Cassie once she got home Sunday evening. Although it’d been an offhand comment, Cassie was surprised when she didn’t hear from her. Apparently Angie’s last-minute meeting with her friend had turned into more of an event.
Cassie didn’t think much about it until Angie showed up at the lab Monday morning. Her friend’s face radiated…joy. Unmistakable joy.
“Well, well, well,” Cassie said, watching Angie closely. Something was up, and it didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to figure out that a man was involved. Clearly Angie had met someone special. The “old friend” from yesterday evening?
“Stop looking at me like that,” Angie said, blushing.
“You’re in love, aren’t you?”
Angie’s eyes widened. “You can tell? Really?”
Cassie nodded. “You’ve got the happy look. You know, the one we all get when we first realize we’re falling for someone.” She knew it had to be the “friend” Angie had seen last night.
Angie shyly glanced away. “The most incredible feeling came over me this morning.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “It’s like…a sixth sense, a knowledge, that this man could be the one.”
“That’s the feeling I’m talking about.” Cassie had never experienced it herself, but she’d seen it again and again with her friends.
A wistful happiness shone from Angie’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything else.
After several minutes Cassie couldn’t stand it anymore. “Well?” she asked.
The reflective look disappeared and was instantly replaced by one that was far more guarded. “Well, what?”
“Aren’t you going to give me details?”
Angie hesitated. “Of course…but not yet.”
This confused Cassie. First, there was very little they didn’t tell each other—except for Angie’s meeting with the matchmaker and it was easy to understand why her friend hadn’t mentioned that, since Simon had rejected her as a client. If it’d happened to her, Cassie wouldn’t have announced it, either. But this was an entirely different matter. For some reason, Angie preferred to remain tight-lipped about this man in her life. Well, so be it. When necessary, Cassie could be patient. If Angie wanted to keep this mystery man to herself for a while, Cassie would respect that.
“I’ll tell you everything soon,” Angie said. “It’s just that I’d like to hold on to this feeling for a little longer.”
Still, Cassie couldn’t help being curious. “Would it hurt to let me know how you met?”
Angie’s face relaxed into a warm smile. “You’ll love that part. We sort of stumbled upon each other. We dated for a while ages ago and decided it wasn’t going to work. Or rather, he did, not me. So I began the search again.”
“So this is the guy you’ve been in love with all along?”
Angie nodded. “You’ll meet him,” she said a second time. “I promise.”
“Will you be seeing him soon?”
“No. It’s a bit…complicated at the moment.”
“Complicated?” Cassie didn’t like the sound of that. “He’s not married or anything, is he?”
Angie shook her head. “Oh, no! Nothing like that.”
“Good.” Cassie smiled, then glanced down at her feet. “Actually,” she said in a low voice, “I was hoping to chat with you last night. I had a couple of questions.”
“What kind of questions?”
“I wanted to ask you about Simon.”
“What about him?”
“Basically…I was curious. Other than the information on his Web site, what do you know?”
Angie shrugged. “Not much.”
“How did you hear about him?”
“He was a birthday gift—at least, the first consultation was.”
“Who from?”
“My mother. She wants grandchildren and knew how brokenhearted I was when…this other relationship ended. She heard about Simon when he did a radio interview.”
“Simon did a radio interview?”
“I don’t think he does them often. This was around Valentine’s Day a few years back.”
“Oh.”
Angie cocked her head to one side. “Why this interest in Dr. Dodson all of a sudden?”
Cassie didn’t want Angie or anyone to suspect how intrigued she was by the matchmaker. She found her thoughts drifting toward him far more often than was comfortable. She told herself that once her curiosity was satisfied, he’d drift into the background where he belonged.
While she’d gone on to his Web site—the address was noted on his business card—she hadn’t searched further.
That evening, she did. She logged on to the Internet and immediately typed his name into Google. There wasn’t a lot, but enough to answer some of her questions. He’d been a Rhodes scholar, attending Cambridge—after Harvard. He’d taught at a prestigious East Coast college. He’d written political articles for the Wall Street Journal and the New York Times. Just as she’d realized earlier, he had opinions about everything and didn’t mind sharing them…in unvarnished prose.
According to Wikipedia, Simon had never been married. She found that…interesting.
Intent as she was on reading her computer screen, the phone startled her. “Yes,” Cassie said, snatching it up. Her gaze stayed on the screen for fear she’d miss a single detail.
“Ms. Beaumont?” The female voice was vaguely familiar. “This is Dr. Dodson’s office.”
A chill raced down her spine. Simon knew she was online, reading about him! He was about to inform her that she’d forfeited her thirty thousand dollars. “I won’t do it again!” she blurted without thinking.
“Excuse me?”
“Were you phoning because—” Cassie stopped abruptly, aware of how absurd she’d been. How paranoid. “Can I help you?” she asked sweetly.
By now Ms. Snelling sounded utterly confused. “Would it be convenient for you to stop by tomorrow afternoon at four-thirty?” she asked.
“Ah, sure.” That meant leaving work a bit early, which wasn’t really a problem.
“Thank you. Dr. Dodson will see you then.”
Rattled as she was, Cassie had hung up before she thought to ask what the meeting was about. She assumed Simon would be giving her the information regarding her second task. But why not call? Maybe he had her elf costume, although that seemed unlikely.
She felt a sense of expectation. She had to admit that Simon fascinated her, although she didn’t especially like him—any more than he liked her. Perhaps he represented a challenge and she couldn’t resist trying to make him aware of her as a woman. Everyone needed to be liked and appreciated, even Simon. That was probably what had led him into the matchmaking business. Certainly the couples she’d spoken to had expressed their appreciation—if not liking—for him. So maybe he couldn’t achieve romantic satisfaction for himself but he could for others. It all seemed rather lonely.
On Tuesday, she kept checking her watch. Angie, who might otherwise have commented, was preoccupied, as well. Cassie had decided not to question her about this new, or rather resumed, relationship. When Angie was ready to tell her, she would. Cassie could only hope this man turned out to be everything Angie believed he was. Perhaps they could have a double wedding!
Because Simon had kept her waiting at their previous appointments, Cassie didn’t bother to show up until four forty-five. His assistan
t’s disapproval was obvious. When Cassie stepped up to the desk, the older woman regarded her with distaste. “You’re late.”
“Well, yes… Simon, Dr. Dodson, was late the past two times and—”
“And you felt turnabout was fair play,” he said, standing in the doorway leading to his office. “If you’ll forgive the cliché.” His arms were crossed and he looked more amused than annoyed.
It’d been four days since she’d last seen him and it struck her again how attractive he was.
He arched his brows. “You have nothing to say? Generally I can’t get you to shut up and now you act as if we’ve never met.”
“No…I figured you’d be late and—and I didn’t want to waste time sitting here…” she stammered, embarrassed that he’d caught her staring.
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“Then don’t keep me waiting again,” she returned.
His shoulders relaxed. “Ah, I see the Cassie I recognize is back. Follow me. We have business to discuss.” He walked into his office, Cassie close behind him.
Without waiting for an invitation, she took the visitor’s chair across from his desk. She leaned back, legs crossed, trying to appear confident.
Looking stiff and formal once more, Simon sat down. “I asked to see you because I have the information concerning your agreement to work as Santa’s helper.”
She nodded. “Okay, but you could’ve phoned—unless you have my outfit.”
“Outfit?”
“For my elf job.”
Simon shook his head, and for the first time since she’d arrived, he seemed edgy. “There’s been a small change in plans.”
“Change? What do you mean?”
“The mall has experienced a decline in the number of parents bringing their children to meet Santa.”
“Does this mean Santa won’t be requiring my help, after all?” She did her best to keep her enthusiasm to a minimum. She wouldn’t mind getting out of this; she liked children—in fact, she loved them—but if her tasks were limited to two instead of three, she’d be done that much sooner. Then Simon could introduce her to John.
Despite herself, she felt a twinge of regret at the idea of never seeing Simon again. But once he’d made the official introduction, his role would be over, his job done. She realized she’d miss his acerbic responses…?.
Simon frowned at her. “What are you thinking?” he asked.
Cassie answered a bit more sharply than she’d intended. “I’m sure you’re not interested in my thoughts.”
Again his brows shot toward his hairline. “I wonder how long it will take you to learn that I do not ask questions unless I am interested in the answer.”
Cassie threw back her head. “All right, fine. I was just thinking that you’re a very odd man. I find I’m rather…intrigued by you. Not in any romantic way, of course.”
“Of course,” he said dryly. “I can’t tell you what a relief that is.”
“It’s more like…driving past a car wreck. Horrible though it is, you can’t stop yourself from looking.”
His frown deepened. “I can assure you my life is no wreck—nor is my car.”
“Yes, well, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with your car.”
Ignoring her comment and its implication, Simon picked up a piece of paper. “As I was saying, I heard from the Tacoma Mall regarding your assignment. There’s been a slight change.”
“Is this because of what you said earlier—that there’s a decline in the number of children visiting Santa?”
“Yes. But here’s what—”
“Oh, wait, I have a question,” Cassie broke in.
Simon looked up at the ceiling as though his patience, which was always in short supply, had been sorely tested yet again. “No.”
“That’s rather dictatorial,” she said. “How could a question hurt?”
“If you’d let me get a word in edgewise… I’m trying to give you some important information.”
“About helping Santa?” Simon acted as if she’d have to smuggle top secret papers to the north pole.
“This relates directly to your assignment,” he said, avoiding eye contact. “I need to know if you’re afraid of heights.”
How could that possibly pertain to her working as an elf? “Not really. Why?”
Simon paused. “Maybe you should ask me your question, after all, before I explain.”
“I’d rather hear what you have to say first.”
He sighed loudly. “I talked to the mall and—”
“Yes, yes, we’ve been through this.”
“I did mention that a uniform—a costume—is required.”
“Yes.” His reluctance to get to the point was beginning to concern her.
“I wasn’t aware anything like this would be asked of you, but I’m encouraged that you don’t have any fear of heights.”
“I don’t have to swing from the top of the Space Needle, do I?”
“No…” He exhaled slowly, staring down at his desk. “The mall wants the first elf—that would be you—to arrive by wire.”
Cassie swallowed hard. “You’re not referring to a telegram, are you?”
“No.”
“A wire…from where?”
Again he avoided meeting her gaze. “The ceiling.”
Cassie frowned, attempting to picture it. “You mean they want me to fly in like Peter Pan?”
“Exactly.”
“You’re joking!” This was the most preposterous idea she’d ever heard.
“The reindeer will follow you.”
“Live reindeer?”
“They’re plastic, but the mall wants to make a real production of Santa’s arrival.”
“And,” she said, swallowing again since her mouth was so dry, “I’m part of the production.”
“Yes. Are you willing to do this?” he asked.
Cassie’s fingers tightened around her purse strap. “Would I still meet John if I decline?”
Simon hesitated. “This wasn’t part of our original agreement, so I’d need to find a replacement task. That might take a few weeks.”
“I don’t want to wait any longer than I already have to.”
“Then I’ll inform the mall there won’t be a problem and they can expect you on Saturday morning around nine.”
Her complete lack of reaction must have alerted Simon to the fact that she was having second thoughts.
“No need to worry,” Simon assured her. “I’ve been told it’s quite safe. The wire will hold up to four hundred pounds.”
“Oh.” Cassie couldn’t believe she’d agreed to this. When she glanced up, she thought, just for a moment, that she saw a smile on Simon’s face. She leaned forward. “Were you smiling?”
“Pardon me?”
“You were smiling, weren’t you? You’re enjoying this.” The man should be arrested for deriving pleasure from her humiliation.
His mouth quivered, but Simon had the good grace to look away. “Actually, I was thinking you’re going to manage this quite well. You’re a woman who’s destined for high places.”
Unfortunately, his vote of confidence didn’t excite her. And his joke didn’t amuse her.
Chapter 9
Simon says: The best match for you is the one I arrange—because I know you better than you know yourself.
“This must be a joke,” Cassie said, staring at the limp green tights. No way was she going to stuff her hips and thighs into those.
“Dr. Dodson gave us your size, miss,” said an elderly woman, whose name tag identified her as Daisy.
“He did?” Well, if he assumed she wore a size four, then who was she to enlighten him with the truth? Besides, the material did stretch.
Daisy handed her the elf costume, which consisted of a short green dress, like a skater’s, with white faux fur edging the hem and a wide red belt. A green Santa-style hat with a white fur ball dangling from the end completed the outfit. But the pièce de résistance was a gold-pain
ted pair of slippers with curled-up toes.
“The changing room is this way,” Daisy said as she guided her down the dimly lit mall corridor.
Cassie followed, clutching the uniform, the hat and shoes.
“I can’t tell you how pleased we are that you agreed to do this,” Daisy was telling her. “You already have an audience of children waiting.”
This wasn’t news Cassie wanted to hear. “Where will Santa be while I’m floating through the air?”
“Oh, he’ll be right behind you.”
“Great.” So she wouldn’t be doing a solo flight. If she was going to descend from the clouds, Santa should do the same.
“Only…Santa will be on ground level,” Daisy explained.
This was unfair.
The woman stopped and, frowning, bent down to pick up an empty beer can. “Oh, dear,” she grumbled. “I’m afraid Floyd’s been at it again.”
“And who is Floyd?” Cassie asked a bit fearfully.
Daisy’s voice was a low whisper. “He’s Santa.”
Was she saying Santa was a drunk? Outrageous!
“Santa?” Cassie cried.
“Don’t misunderstand me,” Daisy hurried to say. “Floyd’s a wonderful Santa and the kids love him. The problem is, the children can be a bit wearing…as you’ll discover for yourself in a few minutes.” Daisy led her through a dark tunnel to some kind of alleyway deep inside the mall. “There’s a ladies’ room back here where you can change into your costume. I’ll wait outside and once you’re done, I’ll have one of the technicians help you into the harness.”
Cassie gaped at her.
“We want you to be as safe as possible,” Daisy said in a confiding voice. “The wire will lower you from the top level of the mall to the ground floor.”
“Oh.” Cassie couldn’t recall if the mall was two or three levels. One thing was guaranteed—she’d have her eyes closed the entire flight.
As if reading her mind, Daisy added, “You have to play this up, you know.”
“Play this up?” Cassie asked skeptically. “What do you mean?”
“To the crowd. We want you to yell out that Santa’s on his way and all the boys and girls will be getting a gift from him.”
The Perfect Christmas Page 7
