Love Inspired December 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2: Cozy ChristmasHer Holiday HeroJingle Bell Romance

by Valerie Hansen

  Instead of backing off and going home as he’d hoped, Whitney grinned and forged past him into the dimly lit café. “Super. He’ll be glad to hear it. What all was wrong with it?”

  “Nothing that I could see offhand,” Josh replied, slow to follow her yet not wanting to be inhospitable, particularly since her family had just opened their home to him.

  “It isn’t ready yet,” he warned. “I’m good, but I’m not that good.”

  “I wasn’t expecting instant results.” She gave a light laugh and removed her glasses. “Oops. I’m fogging up.”

  “So, I see. Why did you come out in the cold in the first place?”

  “I guess because I felt bad about my father’s asking you to look at the computer. It worked fine when I gave it to him and he’s barely used it. I suspect you’re wasting your time tinkering with it. There’s probably not a thing wrong that Dad’s taking a tutorial wouldn’t fix.”

  “Maybe so. It worked fine as soon as I plugged it in to run the updates.” He eyed the chord she was still holding in her gloved hands. “I really won’t need that. Why don’t you take it home and put it where it won’t get misplaced again?”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me, Mr. Smith?”

  “Of course not. It’s just late. I don’t want anybody driving past to see us in here and think I’ve opened on the Sabbath.”

  “Perish the thought.” Whitney cleared her throat, making Josh wonder if she was as nervous as he was.

  “We also don’t want to start rumors,” he offered. “You know how fast gossip travels in a small town.”

  “Faster than greased lightning, as Miss Ann Mars always says. Don’t you just love her? I hope I’m half as agile and quick-witted as she is when I’m in my eighties.”

  If you get any smarter, I’m a goner, he thought, letting his ensuing words reflect the admiration he felt. “If your current intellect is any sign, I’m sure you’ll be just as sharp.”

  “Why, thank you!”

  Pink color flooded her cheeks and he noticed that her green eyes were sparkling in spite of the dim lighting in the front area of his shop. The least he could do, he supposed, was offer her something hot to drink before she started home.

  “Can I fix you a mocha latte? You liked that before.”

  “You remembered. I’m flattered. Are you sure it’s not too much trouble?”

  “No. It’s easy. When I’m here alone I often raid the coffee machines. Couldn’t see brewing a regular pot upstairs when I had all this specialty stuff down here.”

  “That’s right. I heard you lived upstairs.” She had stepped back to give him better access to the supplies behind the counter. Now, she circled and approached the curtain that separated off his workroom. “So, what’s back here?”

  Josh’s first reaction was to stop her. Then he remembered that not only was she a novice around computers, he had all his real work up in his apartment. There would be nothing for Whitney to see that would jeopardize his continuing charade.

  “Work benches and spare parts, mostly. And bulk supplies for the coffee part of the shop. Not very interesting, I’m afraid.”

  “Okay. Sorry to be so nosy. I guess it’s just part of who I am.”

  “Who are you, exactly?” Josh asked.

  Whitney scowled at him. “What do you mean?”

  “What are your goals, your aspirations? You’re usually so busy asking everybody else leading questions I just wondered what makes you tick.”

  She chuckled again, seeming ill-at-ease. “Speaking of ticking, Dad says I’m like a two-dollar watch that’s been wound too tight. I guess that saying’s a holdover from the days when people had to wind their watches instead of relying on batteries.”

  Although he was measuring freshly ground beans into the espresso machine, Josh managed to arch an eyebrow in her direction. “And you accuse me of not answering questions?”

  “Okay, okay.” Whitney took off her gloves and stuffed them into her coat pockets before waving her hands. “You win. I was always interested in creative writing. My senior year I was editor of the school paper and co-advisor of the yearbook committee.”

  “How about college?”

  “I took a few journalism classes at the JC up in Manhattan. But I felt as if I was wasting my time studying abstracts when I could be actually working for Ed Kowalski at the Gazette.” She spread her arms wide. “So, here I am.”

  “How did you get your newspaper job in the first place?” He was adding foamy milk to the coffee as he spoke.

  “Persistence.” She laughed lightly, sounding less apprehensive this time. “I must have written over a dozen pieces before Ed accepted one of them. Since I know practically everybody in town, it’s easy for me to get interviews and come up with lots of human interest stories and he knows it, so I was a natural.”

  “Is that what you’re doing regarding the Save Our Streets project?” He presented the hot drink with a flourish.

  “In a manner of speaking.” Whitney accepted the mug and wrapped both hands around it. “Thanks. You know I did a series of columns about the romance angle. But there’s a bigger scoop behind everything. I just know it. All I have to do is keep digging.” She took a cautious sip. “Mmm. Delicious. Which is where you come in, Mr. Smith.”

  “Me?” Josh was beginning to feel like a specimen stuck to a slide under the lens of a microscope. “What can I do?”

  “Just what you promised,” she reminded him. “I have high hopes that tracing that obscure email address will provide the lead I need.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then we’ll try something else.”

  “We, kemosabe?” As he had hoped, his gibe made Whitney chuckle. Her voice was always pleasing to his ears and when she laughed there was something about the sound that lifted his spirits immeasurably.

  “Yes, we. I have witnesses that you promised to help me, remember?”

  “I don’t think it’s fair to involve your parents.”

  “Sorry. Too late.” She made more sounds of contentment as she continued to carefully sip the rich drink. “This is wonderful. Maybe even better than the last special one you made me.”

  “It’s exactly the same,” Josh insisted.

  “In that case,” Whitney countered, lowering her lashes and concentrating on the steaming mug, “it must taste better because we spent the day together.”

  “That makes absolutely no sense.”

  “Has it ever occurred to you that there are some things that simply are—whether you can come up with a plausible reason for them or not?”

  “Like what?”

  “Like faith,” Whitney said, sobering. “It may not make a lot of sense to believe in God, yet you and I do.”

  He had to admit she had a point. “All right. Granted, our faith may be a stretch for some people. I tried to analyze why I chose to believe when I had my first glimmer of spiritual understanding, but I never came up with a suitable explanation.”

  “That’s because faith can’t be reasoned. It either is, or it isn’t. I guess you could say it’s more of a choice. Now that I’ve made it, I’d never want to go back.”

  Josh nodded. “Neither would I. There are times when it seems as if I’ve always been a Christian. Other times I feel like a total dunce.”

  “Speaking of dunces,” Whitney drawled, “what should I tell Dad about the laptop? I’m almost as big a novice around computers as he is.”

  “Tell him I want to run more diagnostics on it before I bring it back to him. And I’ll need his password if I’m going to double-check his email account.”

  “There’s a file in the laptop that has all our passwords in it. Just help yourself to whatever you want to look at. We have no deep, dark secrets.”

  “Don’t you think keeping them in a file like that is dangerous?”

  “Not at all,” Whitney said. “There’s nothing on there that needs to be kept private. Besides, any hacker worth his salt could probably access anything
he wanted, whether he had my passwords or not.”

  “Not ethically or legally.”

  “Well, you now have my express permission,” Whitney said, draining her drink and shivering slightly. “So you’re covered. Have at it. Knock yourself out.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.” Setting aside the empty mug she started to put her gloves back on. “Thanks for the warm-up. I know it was silly to come out tonight just to bring you the power cord. I acted on a whim.” She glanced through the window at the snowy street. “Now that I’m here and warm again, I hate to go back out there.”

  “Really, I…”

  “Oh, don’t panic,” Whitney said with a smirk. “I didn’t mean I was actually staying.”

  “I never thought you did.”

  “Right. And that’s why you look so relieved all of a sudden.” She started toward the door. “I’ll be back tomorrow or the next day with the email addresses I want you to trace.”

  Josh considered trying to talk her out of it, then remembered what she’d said about recruiting one of his teenage customers. There were a couple of them, including Matt Garman, who might be savvy enough to get her the answers she sought. The way Josh saw the situation, the only way to avoid that was to take on the job himself and see that there were no usable results until after Christmas.

  “All right,” he said as he unlocked the door to let her out. “Make it in the afternoon. That’s our slowest time.”

  When she turned her emerald gaze on him and smiled, he wondered if she had any idea what mayhem she was causing in his mind and body. The touch of her gloved hand on his forearm was enough to make him tremble.

  Instead of leaving immediately, she stood very still, very close to him, and seemed to be waiting. Her eyes misted. Her cheeks warmed. Her lips parted ever so slightly.

  It was all Josh could do to keep from bending closer and kissing her. Did she know? Was she taunting him? Or was she as oblivious to her own charms as she seemed?

  “Thank you. For everything,” Whitney finally said, effectively breaking the mood. “You’d better go make yourself a hot drink. You’re shivering.”

  As Josh closed the door and watched her cautiously pick her way through the snow to her car, he realized that she was right. He was literally quaking in his boots. And it had a lot less to do with the weather than it did with a certain lovely reporter with a tenacious nose for news.

  He returned Whitney’s farewell wave and watched her climb into her car.

  What he wanted to do was run to the curb and… And what? he asked himself. The choices his mind provided ranged from hugs to kisses to escorting her home, none of which were the least bit acceptable.

  That very evening he had vowed to avoid the woman, yet here he stood, fantasizing about stealing a kiss and coming within a heartbeat of doing so!

  Was he crazy? Probably.

  Was he a fool? Undoubtedly.

  Was he going to be able to follow his own advice and stay away from Whitney Leigh? No way.

  *

  The drive home gave Whitney plenty of time to think. Her creative imagination had been running wild tonight, particularly where the handsome barista was concerned. One complimentary cup of coffee had her visualizing being in his arms and accepting his tender kiss.

  Whitney huffed. “Accepting, nothing. You wanted to kiss him back and you know it, only he never gave you the chance,” she mumbled, disgusted with herself and wondering when she had become such a pushover?

  She had always been kind of drawn to Josh. That was a given. But when had simple attraction morphed into the desire to be held in his arms? To be romanced? She was beyond that kind of silliness, wasn’t she? She’d certainly thought so until recently.

  Some of the townspeople whom she had interviewed had hinted at love at first sight. That was not the case regarding Josh Smith. Whitney had slowly grown to like him. A lot. And the change had taken place so smoothly she could not put her finger on a specific date or event when it had occurred.

  They had interacted before, of course. Josh had helped in the community garden as well as providing a venue for a mini-celebration after Gracie’s cancelled wedding. And he had joined her and others when they had volunteered to fix up homes in Bygones that needed refurbishing. But that was camaraderie, not romance.

  Whitney supposed she might have been influenced by her mother’s suggestions regarding Josh, although Betty had tried matchmaking before to no avail. Come to think of it, so had Miss Coraline. What was different this time?

  The man, she admitted with chagrin. The man was different. He was Josh, and he was the most interesting, appealing character she had met in who knows when.

  So, what was she going to do? she wondered absently.

  The answer was so plain when it came, she imagined she might have heard an actual voice saying, “Nothing.”

  Of all the conclusions she might have drawn, that was the least acceptable. And the most sensible, of course.

  Whitney shook her head and sighed. Would God have led her to get to know Josh if He had not wanted her to fall for him?

  Who knew? Certainly not Whitney. One of her biggest problems had always been a lack of sufficient patience. This instance was no different.

  In the case of Josh Smith, however, she had no choice but to bide her time.

  However, that did not mean she had to like it.

  Chapter Nine

  Gray-haired Coraline Connolly was among those waiting at the door when Josh opened his shop the following morning. He greeted her warmly, then went about the business of serving customers at the counter.

  As soon as Josh was able, he poured Coraline’s usual cup of Kona, grabbed a cream pitcher and joined her. She had chosen the most private of the small, glass-topped tables and made herself comfortable.

  “Here you go, Miz Coraline,” he said amiably. “What brings you here so early?”

  “I wanted to talk to you before school started,” she said, smiling. “How’s business?”

  “Very good, thanks. The SOS committee should be delighted.”

  “We are.”

  Josh watched her smile wane and saw concern in her steady glance. “Then what’s bothering you? You look as if you just lost your best friend.”

  “Not the best, necessarily, but I have suffered a sort of loss.”

  He reached across the narrow space and patted her hand. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Beyond all you’ve already done, you mean?”

  Scowling, he regarded her. “Beg your pardon?”

  “It was that quirky smile of yours that finally clinched it for me, you know. I knew you reminded me of someone but I just couldn’t seem to put my finger on who. Then, at the park, I saw you smiling and it all came together.” Her expression was kind, her tone soothing. “How is your mother, dear?”

  “What? I don’t understand.” Josh could not have been more surprised if the school principal had started dancing on the table top.

  “Susanna. I knew her as Susanna Hastings, of course. She went away to college and never came back to live in Bygones after her parents were killed in that terrible accident. She married soon after that and had a son. Only her last name is Barton—not Smith.”

  His shoulders slumped. He clasped his hands together on the table and stared. “You know? How much?”

  “Enough,” Coraline said. “What puzzles me is the masquerade. Why do that? Did you think we wouldn’t take your money if we knew who you were? As near as I can tell, it was earned honestly. That’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Of course.” Lowering his voice he leaned closer. “Who else knows? Who have you told?”

  “Nobody. Not even your mother. I take it you’ve kept her in the dark, too, or she surely would have contacted me by now.”

  “You’re right. I want it to be a surprise when I tell her I’ve stepped in and saved her old hometown just for her. You should have seen how happy she was when she thought there was going to be a reun
ion, and how hard she took it when you called to cancel for lack of funds.”

  “That’s what brought all this on?”

  “Yes. At least that’s how I got the original idea. After that, the project kind of morphed into what you see today.”

  “Amazing.” Coraline’s brow knit. “But why the charade? You could have told us who you were and what you wanted to do without all the cloak-and-dagger stuff.”

  “Could I? Are you sure nobody would have spilled the beans and spoiled my surprise? Mom has a lot of old friends in Bygones. That’s why I chose to come here incognito in the first place.”

  “And why you still haven’t told anybody who you are?”

  “Yes and no. Part of the choice to keep pretending to be Josh Smith is selfish. I feel accepted here and I’m afraid that once I confess what I’m up to, people will treat me differently.” Her look of disbelief prodded him to go on. “Trust me, Miss Coraline. It’s happened before.”

  “So, what did you tell Susanna? I mean, she must have asked where you were and what you were doing.”

  “She did. Mom thinks I’m away because I’ve been setting up a new branch of Barton Technologies.”

  “Are you?” Coraline grew pensive before starting to smile. “That’s not a bad, idea, you know. I can think of the perfect property, too. The old Randall Manufacturing plant.”

  “It was just a ploy so Mom wouldn’t worry and I could truly surprise her. I’m not looking to expand.”

  “Why not? You know we have a good base of talent here. Think of the boon a thriving business like yours would be to Bygones!”

  Josh had to agree she had a valid point. This wouldn’t be a bad place to open a new facility. “You mentioned Randall. What can you tell me about him? The few times I’ve met him he seemed pretty down. I asked what happened to make his business fail but he never actually explained.”

  “Besides the downturn in the economy, you mean? The poor man was jilted. Dumped and divorced. After that he sort of quit trying,” Coraline said with a telling sigh. “His wife was not only cruel, she was emotionally blind.”

  “I take it you knew her?”