Another pause. "Well, I just don't know what to say to this, Morgan. I'm positively shocked you didn't let me know about this... Brooke earlier. I've made plans for you. For all of us. And Alexia Kilmore will be in town, also. She was looking forward to seeing you. You know Alexia. She and Caroline were good friends in college."
Morgan rolled his eyes. He knew how to read between his mother's lines so well. If Caroline-who-married-well was friends with her,..
His mom kept chatting. "I told her mother you'd take her out. I thought we might have eggnog with her and her family on Christmas Day around two. After church, of course."
Of course. "You'll have to tell her hi for me."
"Alexia just graduated, dear. She's a little at loose ends.... You'd be so good for her."
But would she be good for him? Shaking his head, he replied, "I don't think so, Mom. I want to be with Brooke." As he said the words, he realized just how much he meant them. Somehow he instinctively knew that Brooke wouldn't care what her table looked like, or what he was wearing, or how well his stock portfolio was doing. He had a feeling she'd be more concerned with hokey decorations, red and green M&M's and steaming mugs of hot cider.
And a good-looking blue spruce.
His mother still hadn't said a word. He could already picture her deep in thought, planning her next offensive. He wondered what it would be. Perhaps she'd ask him to bring Brooke to Dallas with him. It would be uncomfortable, but with Brooke by his side, it might even be fun.
They'd be together Christmas morning. He could get her something expensive and pretty, like a porcelain figurine or a gold necklace.
And a puzzle. He could get her one of those crazy five thousand piece puzzles that he'd have to help her assemble.
"Oh. I see," his mother finally said, dispelling all warm, homey thoughts from his mind. "Well. Hmm. How is everything going at Royal?"
Disappointment surged through him, though he had to admit he wasn't completely surprised. Of course his mother wasn't going to beg him to come visit for the holidays. His family didn't do that. Of course she wasn't going to ask him to bring Brooke-from-Nebraska home with him. She was a stranger. A nobody.
Feeling slightly uncomfortable that he'd even put his mother in such a spot, he chose to simply answer her question. "Work's going well."
"Is it? I'm so glad. You always were a hard worker. I bet you'll be up for another promotion soon."
Biting back a caustic reply, he asked, "How's Dad?"
"He's fine. Playing golf. I'll let him know about your plans."
Yes, she would. They'd probably cross his name off their list of things to do, then move on to the next item.
There was nothing left to say now, really. "Thanks, Mom."
"You're welcome, dear. I'll send your present in the mail today, so you receive it in time."
"I'll do the same. And I'll call you on Christmas morning."
"We'll look forward to it," she replied briskly.
"Bye, Mom."
"Goodbye, Morgan."
And that was it. That was his warm and fuzzy phone conversation with his mother. The one where he'd confided in her that he finally felt strongly enough about a girl that he'd skip out on a family Christmas in order to be with her.
No squeals of happiness. No fifty questions about Brooke.
Only a hint of irritation that he was messing up her seating arrangement and that she now needed to make an extra trip to the post office. Oh, and what was Alexia going to do?
No, that wasn't quite fair. His mother loved him, and he loved her.
His parents just didn't foster those touchy-feely emotions in their home. They were all about looks and outcomes and jobs well done.
Not gold sandals and slow waltzes, or silly childhood stories.
Or staying up to watch the stars at night.
*****
Chapter Twenty-Two
"Nuh-uh. Nope. Not likely," Tomasina said firmly as she wiped down a bookcase in the interior design firm that Jovial Janitors cleaned on Wednesdays.
"Come on, Tomi. Just this once?"
"That's what you said last time. And knowing you, you'll say it again. Brooke Anne, you're worse than a heroin addict trying to get another fix."
"I hardly think my need for your friendship is on the same level as a drug addiction."
"You can't stop doing things that aren't good for you - or me. In my opinion, it's all the same."
Brooke Anne was scrubbing away so hard at a scuff mark on the tile floor that she was working up a sweat. "But I don't want to see him again. After the tree lot incident, I'm convinced he just thinks of me as an obligation to be taken care of," she told Tomi. Secretly, she was afraid he wanted so much more.
More than she was sure she could be for him.
"Doesn't matter if you don't want to see him again. You have to."
"But what am I going to say?"
Tomi straightened, set her hands on her hips and recited, as if she was back in grade school, "Thank you for my shoes and my money. I need to go pay my people so they can pay for expensive plastic log cabins they already charged on their Visa's."
Brooke Anne laughed at Tomi's theatrics. "Point taken. But you would do so much better than me. I know I won't be able to act tough when I'm around him. I'll just melt and get all gushy inside." She dipped her sponge in the water and tried scrubbing the scuff mark again, wishing she'd thought to bring a tube of toothpaste with her to remove the black marks. "You've met him. You know how cute he is."
"I have met him," Tomi replied as she shook her head at Brooke Anne's efforts.
"So..."
Tomasina crouched next to her and skillfully removed the mark with two swipes. "You need to grow some biceps, girl," she murmured, sitting back on her haunches. "Look. Just because you've found yourself some too-cute, brown-eyed hunk of a man who you don't know how to talk to doesn't mean I have to help you out."
"Khaki. They're khaki."
"What?"
"His eyes, Tomi. And you should feel how solid he is."
Tomasina's lips curved into a ghost of a smile, then she glowered at her for show. "I've got my own man to feel, thank you very much."
Pulling out the vacuum, she continued, her voice a little more tender, "Listen. If you don't want to see him tomorrow night, then just get your stuff and give him a break. Even though he seems kind of needy in the romance department, he's obviously honest. Grab your check - which you earned, I might add - and get on with your life." She bent down in one economical motion, plugged in the vacuum and pressed the power button. "Don't you have more elf stuff to do?"
The reminder caused Brooke Anne's eyes to widen in alarm. "Yes. The big party is in two weeks."
"See...you can't be wasting your time."
Brooke Anne sighed. "That's my problem. I've got too much on my plate."
They worked another forty-five minutes, then made their way to the parking lot together. Brooke Anne was dropping Tomi off at choir practice after work, and her church was just a few blocks from Brooke Anne's apartment.
On the drive over, Brooke Anne felt bad that lately all their conversations had centered on her. She'd only been focused on her needs and not her friend's. "I'll still give y'all those bonuses I promised, Tomi. I will."
"That's good."
"So, how are things going with you? How's Ronnie doing?"
"Ron's good. Working hard at the UPS office. Good overtime, though."
"Do you know what he's getting you for Christmas?"
"Nope, but it better be small and fit in my stocking, if he wants a little ho, ho, ho."
Brooke Anne laughed. "I got the cutest toy for Vanessa."
Tomi grinned. "Did you?"
"Yep. It's a metal pot-and-pan set, complete with metal spoons to rap against them."
Tomasina gave her a look of mock horror. "All that racket! As if my house wasn't noisy enough already. You wouldn't do that to me, would you?"
Brooke Anne reached out and place
d a hand on her best friend's arm. "You're right - I wouldn't. I got her these adorable Winnie the Pooh finger puppets."
"I love Winnie the Pooh. Is there a Tigger?"
"Of course."
"Gotta love Tigger."
"Yep." Brooke Anne smiled warmly at Tomi as they pulled up to the church, beautifully lit with white lights.
"See you tomorrow night."
Tomasina slid out of the passenger seat, looking like a different woman than when she'd gotten in. While they were driving, she'd slipped out of her Jovial Janitor jacket and pulled on her black-suede-and-faux-fur coat. Tennis shoes had been replaced with heels. The clips had been taken out of her hair and now it hung like a flag down her back. She looked glamorous and spunky...like Tomi. "See you later. You go see that man tomorrow. Let him fawn over you a little bit. Enjoy a night out."
"And if I only get my shoes and a check tomorrow?"
Tomi reached out and clasped Brooke Anne's hand tightly. "That's more than you've got at the moment, right?"
"Right."
Tomasina gave her hand another squeeze, then stood up, her leopard-print tote bag carrying her change of clothes. "I'd better go. I can't be late."
"I know."
"Brooke Anne, it's going to be okay. I have faith in you, girl. Tomorrow night will work out just fine. I can feel it."
The van door slammed shut and Tomi made her way up the lit sidewalk.
As Brooke Anne drove away, she wished she had a little of Tomasina's confidence.
*****
Chapter Twenty-Three
Well, here she was again, outside Morgan's door, Brooke Anne thought to herself the following evening.
The good news was that he was obviously there, and even awake. She could hear papers shuffling and desk drawers opening and shutting. What would they say to each other?
Quickly, Brooke Anne rubbed her damp hands against her jeans. This time, she'd opted to wear her Jovial Janitor jacket instead of a sweatshirt. It was a little more flattering, if she could use such a word to describe the garment. Underneath, she had on a bright red turtleneck, and she was wearing high-heeled boots.
After all, she hadn't come to the office to clean this evening, she was there to meet Morgan. She'd offered to take over Tomi's shift for the night, but Tomi had refused to budge. She'd only worn the jacket to get past the security guard.
Taking a deep breath, she knocked briskly on the door frame and stepped in.
Morgan was already standing and circling his desk.
"I'm so glad you actually came," he said. "I was half expecting to see Tomasina in your place."
Brooke Anne was uncomfortably aware of just how close that had come to happening. "I told you when I called this morning that I'd be here."
"I'm glad you are."
That was his second "glad"! Happiness warred with suspicion in her heart. Was he really pleased to see her, or merely saying the right thing?
She glanced at a plain shopping bag on his desk. "So, are these my infamous shoes?"
"Yes, they are. There's an envelope with your money in there, as well."
"Thanks. That will come in handy."
When she was about to take the bag and run, Morgan stopped her with a hand on her arm. "Are you done cleaning for the day?"
"Actually, Tomasina will stilt clean the office tonight. I just stopped by to see you...and to, um, get my things," Brooke Anne added belatedly, feeling as if she'd already said too much.
"So you had to come all the way over here, just for this?"
"I told you I would."
"What about dinner? Would you like to get some?"
She knew what she should say to keep her heart intact. She should tell him she'd already eaten, then move on - shoes and money in hand. But she didn't. The thought of being in his company again was too tempting. Give Morgan a chance, Brooke! a little voice called out inside her. Forget what happened with Russell, and take a chance again. You're worth it!
"Sure. Dinner sounds fine," she finally replied. Besides, then she could tell him all about cleaning the soiree house and they could both be uncomfortable together.
"There's a diner around the corner."
The place he was talking about was Skip's. To say it was simply a diner was like saying a Cadillac was simply a car. Skip's had been a landmark as far back as anyone could recall. The food was good, and the restaurant was known for its soup, which would be perfect for a frigid evening like tonight. "Great," she said.
"Do you have a warm coat? For once it's not drizzling outside, just cold. We could walk."
"Yeah, my winter coat is in my van. If you'll give me a minute, I'll go exchange it for this jacket and then meet you there."
"No way. I'm not letting you out of my sight tonight," he said as he moved toward her, a new, almost possessive gleam in his eyes. "I'll walk with you."
Morgan held her bag for her and escorted her through the building to the parking lot. When they reached the Jovial Janitor van, he stood to the side as she unlocked the door, slipped the envelope into her purse and switched coats. Then they were walking down the sidewalk, braving a crisp wind that seemed determined to blow directly into their faces.
It felt natural when Morgan took her arm to keep her steady. It felt even better when she gave in to her desire and let her body fit against his. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, enveloping her with his masculine scent. She felt warm and secure - as if she was on a real date.
The diner was crowded, filled with noisy customers who had come downtown to shop and celebrate the season. Loud music played, and the servers had donned Santa hats and reindeer-head buttons.
Morgan and Brooke Anne were led to a table immediately and given plastic-coated menus. "What a day," he said, once they were seated across from each other.
Brooke Anne eyed him. He did look a bit frazzled, but animated, too. The combination suited him. She couldn't decide whether she wanted to brush her fingertips along his brow or just sit back and listen to him talk. "Busy?" she asked, choosing the latter idea.
"Oh, yeah." He set his menu down and met her gaze. "Part of my job is to survey people about different items that are stocked in our hotel rooms. This past month Breva and I have had the dubious honor of restocking the toiletry articles for the guestrooms."
"I had no idea such a job existed." Brooke Anne leaned forward, intrigued.
"It sounds like it would be fun, right? Breva and I actually thought it was going to be a great project for December. Piece of cake. Last year it was table linens and silverware for the dining rooms."
"But choosing shampoos isn't fun?"
He scowled. "Everybody's a critic. First we had to test all the items and now we're in the process of weeding through hundreds of customer and employee responses."
"And it's driving you crazy?"
He nodded. "Breva and I thought we had everything under control... but the last batch of questionnaires came in today."
His joking tone was infectious. Brooke Anne couldn't help but get caught up in it. "Let me guess. Nobody likes your choices."
He grinned. "Not only that -everyone has something to say. Breva and I came to the conclusion around four o'clock that it's going to be impossible to please everyone."
"But you've known that all along, right?"
"I have...it's just coming as a surprise. I was kind of hoping that minibottles of shampoo and conditioner wouldn't mean much in the grand scale of things."
"You mean compared to...world peace?"
"Exactly. But I was completely wrong. We even had two people from the sales team come over to see how their choice was faring. I think they've got a betting pool going on over there."
"What are you going to do?" she asked lightly, completely taken in by his banter. She wondered if Morgan had any idea that his eyes looked green in candlelight. Or that his dimple appeared every time he frowned.
If he realized his shoulders looked especially broad in crisp button-downs.
"Bre
va and I are just going to stick with our original recommendations," he declared. "I'm sick of it all. And I'm finding out way too much about people's personal grooming preferences."
Brooke Anne wrinkled her nose. "I think I understand."
"I'm sorry," Morgan said. "You asked a simple question and I've completely bored you with my petty problems."
She wasn't the least bit bored. "I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't interested, Morgan."
He smiled at that.
After making their dinner selections and ordering hot coffee from Bernice, their server, they were alone again.
"So, tell me what you've been doing. Still shopping for Barbies?"
It was time. "Yes...and cleaning. Tomi and I actually cleaned a woman's house all the way over in Indian Hill two Friday's ago."
Morgan squirmed. No doubt the last thing he wanted to hear about was her cleaning toilets. "Is that right?"
This is good for you, Brooke Anne told herself. Let him see that the two of you have no future. Now that you have your shoes and money back, you don't ever need to see him again. "Yeah. It was a really pretty house. I think I might have seen you there."
He looked at her as if she was speaking Greek. "I doubt it. I don't go over to Indian Hill too often."
"I really think it was you I saw," she pressed, more than a little irritated now. Why in the world would someone pretend he wasn't rich? His attitude wasn't making any sense. "Do you know a Caroline Hart?"
Morgan's face went slack. "What?"
"I was...cleaning the carpet...when I saw you go in that house. With a very pretty brunette."
Instead of denying what she'd seen, Morgan sent her a piercing look. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"What would you have done? Invited Tomasina and me to the soiree?"
"Maybe." He rolled his eyes. "That silly soiree. That, Brooke, was my sister's house."
"What?"
"My sister's married name is Hart. Caroline married a rich trust-fund kid. And that brunette is my cousin Barbara."
Now Brooke Anne felt stupid. "Your cousin?" Once more, she tried to picture how he'd looked with that gal. Had Brooke Anne just imagined he'd been acting in a romantic way toward her?
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