A Little Christmas Jingle

by Michele Dunaway

  “Anything.” That had come out wrong. “Well, within reason.” Where was that waitress? More wine. Stat.

  Those fingers continued their sensual assault on the cup. “So, if I do you this favor, will you owe me one?”

  “What?”

  “Owe me one.” He repeated, those three words subtly suggestive. Kat’s breath hitched. Just what did he mean? He rubbed his fingers together then reached for the beer bottle. “If I do this, I want quid pro quo.”

  She’d grabbed her fork, and she set it back down. Was he really considering helping her? “Like what?”

  “You want to use me, yes? My particular skills?” The words rolled seductively off his tongue, sending an anticipatory shiver to her toes. She could think of all kinds of skills she’d like to use, none involving signing calendars or finding homes.

  Oh boy. Her impulsivity once again had her in far too deep. His lips molded around the bottle opening. Her mouth dried, and she sipped water for much needed composure. “I sound like all those women. It was Angela’s idea. Forget I asked.”

  “I never forget a thing.”

  “No?”

  “No. It’s one of the reasons I became a cop. It’s also the reason that kiss we shared is so potent. Or that I wouldn’t like to try it again.”

  “Oh.” She let that sink in.

  “First, I am not posing sans clothes … in public.”

  Her skin heated and she blushed deep. “I wouldn’t expect that.”

  Beer slid down his throat. “You’d be amazed who would and how many times I’ve been asked.” Bottle down, long, firm fingers now tapped against the plastic water cup. “Also, I’m happy to take pictures and sign autographs, but I don’t want that to be my only focus. As much as I hate Christmastime adoptions, I do like helping people find a pet. I also want to be able to publicize the Task Force and its work. So we need to make sure all animals are going to good, forever homes.”

  She nodded, hopeful. “Of course. You know I support all of that.”

  “Finally, I have another condition. A personal favor, so to speak.”

  As the idea germinated, he realized he’d found the perfect solution to his number-one problem. He could get his mother off his back and explore this thing—this interest—he had with Kat.

  “Like what kind of favor?” she asked.

  “I need you to fall madly in love with me.”

  Her fingers flew to her mouth. “What?”

  He laughed, put his hands up in surrender. “Kidding. But have you ever seen one of those movies where people agree to help each other out during the holidays? You know, like attending events together? But as friends? But they pretend to be dating? I need us to do that.”

  She tugged her bottom lip under with her top teeth. “Let me get this straight. Are you talking about Hallmark Channel Christmas movies? And you want us to pretend to be in love?”

  A shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Yes and yes.”

  “You watch Hallmark movies?”

  “My mother and sister do. And—” he turned it around on her “—I bet you’ve probably seen every one.”

  Busted. “Okay, fine.” The rosy flush spread, and his breath caught. “Yes, I watch them marathon style. Don’t you dare snicker. There’s nothing wrong with that. Don’t knock me or your mother for our good taste.”

  “Or my stepsister,” he added, grateful he and Kat had connected. “She’s getting married in a few weeks. Which is why I need you to pretend to be mad about me. Remember my stalkers from the ball? My mom’s fault. She’s a self-proclaimed matchmaker and determined to fix me up. I need a buffer, like you were the night we met. You love Christmas and December, so you’re perfect.”

  “I’m far from perfect.”

  “Not for what I need.” Intense blue eyes stopped studying the cup and locked onto her gaze instead. A shiver ran through her. “If I do your charity event, I want you to attend some events with me.”

  That sounded doable. “Why?”

  “I need to get through this holiday and could use publicity for the unit. With a beautiful, intelligent woman on my arm, I will be left alone. If we fake date, it’s a win-win.”

  Her eyes widened, comprehending. “You need a mercy date.”

  “And you need me to help save your shelter.”

  “Sounds like we’re both desperate.”

  “I am never desperate.”

  Kat trembled at the innuendo. No, a man as sexy as him wouldn’t be. He shook his head, that blond hair dropping into his face. Then he let out a long sigh. “But I do need us to pretend we’re a newly in-love couple. Only you and I will know it’s all make-believe. Can you do that?”

  Her lips puckered together. Could she pretend to be in love with him—the sexiest guy to come along in years? Kat studied her untouched salad as if the croutons had grown wings. Just this morning he’d waved a complaint letter in her face. “It’s a lot to take in.” Grabbing her fork, she stabbed a chunk of lettuce and cheese. The idea of spending more time with him sent chills up her body. As she used her napkin to wipe her lips, she recalled the sensation of their kiss. She pulled her fingers away. It’s for the animals, she scolded herself. “So what events?”

  He visibly relaxed. “Mainly my stepsister’s wedding and all the family stuff surrounding it. And the Pet Rescue Ball. If it’s anything like the calendar ball, I want a wingman to run interference.” He shuddered, the memory clearly disturbing.

  “There are a few other things, too, but we can discuss those later. Anyway, I’ll help you with your shelter and your legal things, if you keep my meddling mother and every other woman who sees me as an eligible boy toy at bay.”

  “So I’m to be your girlfriend.” She rolled the word over her tongue, trying it out.

  “To everyone else, yes. Only we’ll know the truth. You’ve already seen me in a tux and as we’ve already shared a kiss, it shouldn’t be too awkward to pretend to like me or share a few more kisses, right?”

  “I … uh …” One kiss had been earthshaking.

  He bulldozed ahead. “I’ll tell my mother I have my plus one when I call her tomorrow. That is, if we have a deal. Do we? Are you in?”

  Once again, like with the tour, he’d put her between a rock and a hard place. But she needed help. She needed a miracle to save her shelter. Jack, Mr. Animal Task Force, could be exactly what she needed.

  “Before I say yes …” Kat began.

  “Ask away.”

  “You’re a smart, intelligent and, honestly, a hot guy.”

  “Hot, huh?”

  “I’m sure your stalkers have massaged your ego enough. So why me?”

  “Because I like you.” Words every woman wanted to hear, until they were followed with, “But I’m not looking for happily ever after. My job comes first. If my mother understood that, I wouldn’t be in this situation. She’s already got my wedding date set. A Jane Moorhead. Went to Stanford.”

  Kat ate more pizza as each fell to his and her thoughts. Finally Kat spoke. “You do realize that in all those Hallmark movies the fake couple always falls in love.”

  Jack didn’t appear too concerned. “Ah, the magic of Hollywood.” He tilted his head, that blue-eyed gaze intense as he studied her. “You certainly have the beauty part down.”

  A zing ricocheted through her “You think I’m beautiful?”

  “Of course you are.” He seemed amused by her surprise. “My family will love you.”

  The real reason for the farce. Which was a shame. For she found Jack very attractive as well. Liked how his lips felt on hers. Wondered how much his touch might ignite. But cold-bloodedly discussing fake dating with Mr. Hot and Sexy, albeit with flirting, just proved that once again she’d found Mr. Wrong. The thought made her a little sad, and she brushed it aside.

  “I’d like us to be friends,” Jack confirmed. “We can make that happen if we go into this arrangement with our eyes open. I like you. It’s a simple transaction. I help you and you keep my family off my ba
ck.”

  “For how long?”

  He looked up, as if the stucco ceiling would have the answer. “How about until right after New Year’s? We’ll be seeing each other that long anyway because of Jingle. Even though our contact will continue, New Year’s Eve should do it.”

  December 31. The one holiday she hated. With all her friends married, Kat was always odd man out. She put another piece of pizza on her plate but made no move to take a bite. She wiped her hand on a napkin. “So, would you be willing to attend things with me? If I needed you?”

  Jack tilted his head, considered. “Why not? My mom would think it strange if I didn’t.”

  Kat assessed one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen. As long as she kept her emotions in check, she could revive Jack’s missing Christmas spirit and get through the holidays without being the odd singleton everyone felt sorry for. At twenty-eight, she was as tired of those helpfully nosy and well-intentioned conversations as Jack seemed to be. Since he was clearly a workaholic and since Kat had had enough of coming in second to last a lifetime, she should be safe. And her animals would be taken care of.

  She stretched her hand, the zing as she touched Jack’s fingers a clear warning of blatant chemistry that she chose to ignore. She would be the Jack Donovan’s perfect fake girlfriend to save her animals. She could even kiss him a few times if necessary. That would certainly be no hardship. Butterflies danced in her stomach. Nope. No difficulty whatsoever. The man turned her on, sent tingles to her toes. All she had to do was stay in control, keep all rampant desire in check and her heart protected. Easy, right?

  “Jack Donovan,” she said, shaking his hand, grip firm as heat fused their fingers together, “you have yourself a deal.”

  Chapter Six

  “You have a date. Really? A date?”

  “Geez,” Jack said, realizing that perhaps choosing to drop his bombshell while his mother was whipping mashed potatoes with a hand mixer hadn’t been the best idea. The bowl slid forward, and as she grabbed for it, white fluffy blobs arched into the air, hitting the wall and floor as the beaters lost their traction.

  “I’ll get it,” Jack said, grabbing for the roll of paper towels.

  His mom powered off the mixer, leaving it perched against the edge of the bowl. She held out her hand. “Give them to me.”

  Jack counted off three sheets of the quicker picker upper and passed them over. He leaned against the counter and stuck the rest back onto the holder.

  “What’s with the mess?” Jack’s stepdad asked, squeezing into the small space.

  “Jack has a date!” his mother announced.

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” Jack finished, as Nelson opened the refrigerator door and grabbed two more beers.

  “Two?” his mom asked, arms crossed.

  Nelson held a bottle up. “One’s for Brian. Cecily’s bombarding him with another wedding decision. This way he can pretend his eyes are glazing over from an alcoholic haze. Luckily halftime’s about to end.”

  There was a long-standing, unwritten rule in the household that only football talk was allowed during the Rams game.

  “Poor dear. He’s earned it. He’s been a good sport. Your sister has been a little outlandish at times.”

  Jack figured that was an understatement. His mom wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, tell Cecily that Jack has his plus one. He’s bringing a date.”

  Jack’s stepdad gave him a once-over. “Thank God. Now Cecily can stop harping over her seating chart and get it done. You want a beer?”

  Jack held up his bottle. “I’m good.”

  His mother added a half stick of butter to the potatoes and started the mixer. “If you’re not helping, get out of the kitchen.”

  His stepdad gave Jack a wink and parted with, “I help by getting out of the way. And halftime’s over.”

  “He’s actually been great about the wedding,” his mom said when Nelson left, beating the softened butter into submission. “So who is she?”

  “Who is who?” Cecily asked as she came through the dining room door. “Game’s back on. I’ve been banished.”

  “The who is Jack’s date. He’s actually bringing someone to your wedding.”

  “Really?” Cecily’s eyes narrowed. “She’s not from one eight hundred rent-a-babe is she?”

  “Ha-ha. I can date, you know,” Jack said, irritated that she’d practically snorted her disbelief. “I have a date and she’s real.”

  “So this isn’t just a ploy to get out of it and then show up by yourself? I mean, you do know who’s going to be there.”

  “I do not want to sit by Jane Moorhead.”

  “I meant—” Cecily began, but Jack cut her off.

  “I have a date.” Jack gritted his teeth. “Put me down for plus one and let’s drop it.”

  “Wow. Mr. I’m Too Busy for Women has a real date,” Cecily said. She took her phone out of her pocket. “I’m making a note of this now. What’s her name?”

  “Kat.”

  “You’re bringing a cat to my wedding?”

  From the moment he’d first met Cecily, she’d always made it her unmerciful mission to get on his last nerves. Eight years younger, she’d been in her terrible twos when her dad had married Jack’s mom. Of course, Jack loved her dearly and wouldn’t trade her for the world.

  “Her name is Katherine,” Jack gritted out, his memory recalling the bright blue stitching right above Kat’s heart. Her lab coat had done little to hide her figure and … He replaced that memory with the dress she’d worn to the calendar ball—then gave himself a mental cold shower.

  “Do we know her? And K? Or C? Or …”

  “K-A-T-H-E-R-I-N-E,” he spelled as his sister typed the note into her phone. “Saunders. S-A-U-N-D-E-R-S. She’s a vet.”

  “A vet. Sounds kind of perfect, with you working with animals,” Cecily said.

  “She’s at the Chippewa Animal Clinic.”

  “Oh! The one who saved Jingle!” his mother said over the mixer noise, the potatoes almost to whipped perfection. “She was very pretty on TV.”

  Close enough. He could always correct the story later if need be. “Well, one thing led to the next and I asked her out. We’re going to the Pet Rescue gala and then I thought, why not the wedding? Especially with both of you harping on me.”

  “All the single ladies will be so disappointed,” his mother said. “But I’m sure Jane Moorhead will somehow survive.”

  Cecily nodded. “True, and it’s not like Brian doesn’t have a lot of single friends. We are the first ones to get married out of our group of friends.”

  “Too young if you ask me,” Jack said.

  Her forehead creased into a scowl. “Really Jack, I am tired of your negativity. I’m twenty-two, I finished college, I’m working, and I love Brian. Why can’t I get married? Just because you can’t find a woman with whom to close the deal doesn’t mean I don’t know what I am doing.”

  “So how do you know he’s the right one?” That question had been what had held Jack back—why he’d never asked Julie to marry him. Somehow he’d been uncertain, his gut telling him “no.”

  “I knew that I would marry him back when I was six and punched him in the nose after he said that girls have cooties. I just knew. And even though we dated other people during our freshman year of college, it’s always been him.”

  “Fair enough. Good enough for me.” Jack extricated himself from the conversation by pulling Cecily into his arms for a bone-crushing hug. Her phone pressed against his chest. “I only want my little sister to be happy. And I’d hate to have to shoot him on your behalf.”

  “Oh, he knows what he’s getting into. He’s always known, and I love him because he’s not intimidated by my family.” Cecily paused, then laughed. “Well, maybe a little. Dad’s in there plying him with beer and football, and Brian’s letting him, all in the name of bonding with his soon-to-be father-in-law. Looks like I’ll be driving home.”

  “Dinner’
s ready,” Jack’s mom announced. “And Nelson,” she called into the other room, “you better hit that pause button on the DVR. You can watch when we’re finished and skip through the commercials. You will give this family at least forty-five minutes of your time.”

  “Yes dear,” came the reply, for while no one better talk during Nelson’s Sunday football, the flipside was that for the past twenty years Sunday dinner had gone on the table promptly at five thirty, football be darned. Needless to say, Jack’s stepdad had been the first one on his block to own and master the use of a DVR.

  Jack and Cecily grabbed serving dishes as their mom directed, and soon all sat around the dining room table, the eat-in kitchen too tiny to be comfortable for more than two at most. The old oak dining room table had seen many a meal, many a homework assignment, many a conflict resolution, and many a celebration.

  Jack’s back rested against the ladder-back chair assigned since childhood, his seat ever since his mom had married the man who’d found and fallen in love with her after Jack’s father’s desertion.

  Cecily’s fiancé, Brian, occupied Jack’s older stepbrother Matt’s seat; half sister Brenna’s remained empty. In the middle of finals, she’d be home when the semester was over.

  “How’s Brenna doing?” Jack asked, figuring that might be a safe conversation.

  “Fine,” his mother said. “She loves journalism. Competitive, but Brenna’s got a special knack. So, tell us more about this girl you’re bringing to the wedding. Is it serious?”

  Jack stabbed a slab of medium-rare roast beef, lifting the slice from the platter to his plate. The center held just the right amount of pink. “Like I said, she’s a vet. We just met.”

  “Meaning it’ll fizzle,” Cecily predicted.

  “You don’t know that,” Jack snapped, suddenly irritated. “It’s still new. You’ve known Brian forever, so what would you know about my relationships?”

  Brian wisely concentrated on spooning green bean casserole onto his plate.

  “So what color are her eyes?” Cecily challenged.

  “Brown. With these little gold specks.” The answer came forth automatically, without his having to think about it.