One Special Christmas & Home for the Holidays

by Irene Hannon

  “Of course! What good is success if you can’t enjoy the fruits of your labors?” she replied promptly. Her tone held no resentment, no envy, no self-pity that her own financial situation was not yet secure enough to allow for such luxuries. She was quite a woman, Nick thought—not for the first time that day.

  As always, the lines at Ted Drewes stretched nearly into the street, and a good-natured crowd milled about. Families, couples young and old, teenagers in groups, all mingled. A stretch limo was even pulled up to the curb, but that was not an uncommon sight.

  “This place never ceases to amaze me,” she said with a smile, shaking her head as Nick jockeyed for a parking place.

  “It’s pretty incredible,” he agreed, stopping by a spot that was being vacated. “We’re in luck,” he said triumphantly, skillfully pulling into the tight slot. By the time he turned off the ignition and started to come around to open Laura’s door, he discovered that she’d already alighted, and he stopped in midstride.

  Laura looked at him guiltily. It had been so long since she’d dated that she’d forgotten the niceties. Over the years she had grown accustomed to doing everything herself.

  “Sorry,” they said in unison.

  Laura smiled. “Why are you sorry?” she asked.

  He shrugged sheepishly. “I thought maybe you were one of those women who felt offended by men opening doors and holding chairs. I’ve run into a few who let me know in no uncertain terms that they considered such behavior the height of chauvinism. But my mother did a good job training me, and now it’s a habit. If I offended you, I’m sorry.”

  “No, it’s not that,” Laura assured him quickly. “As a matter of fact, I enjoy it. I just…” Her voice trailed off. How could she tell him that it had been so long since she’d been with a man that she had simply forgotten the rules? “I’m sorry,” she finished lamely, seeing no way she could possibly explain her behavior without telling him things that were better left unsaid.

  “No problem,” Nick assured her with a smile. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same wavelength.”

  After braving the long line at the order window they returned to Nick’s car, leaning against the hood as they ate their chocolate chip concretes, so called because of their thick texture. As they enjoyed the frozen concoction Nick kept her amused with comments and outrageous speculations about various people in the crowd.

  “See that guy over there? The one in the Bermuda shorts who looks like he’s made too many visits here? He’s a spy,” he said solemnly.

  “How do you figure that?” Laura asked, smiling up at him.

  “It’s elementary, my dear. Spies are picked to blend in with the crowd. Would you think he was a spy?”

  “No,” she admitted.

  “Well, there you have it.”

  Laura giggled. “Nick Sinclair, you’re crazy. Has anyone ever told you that?”

  “I’ve been called a few things in my life,” he admitted. “But ‘crazy’…no, that’s a new one. Should I be insulted?”

  “No. You’re crazy in the best sense of the word,” she said, laughing.

  “Well, it must not be so bad if it makes you laugh,” he said softly, his voice suddenly serious.

  Laura was thrown off balance by the change in mood, preferring the safe, easy banter of moments before. She shifted uncomfortably and focused on scraping the last bite of custard out of the bottom of her cup.

  Nick sensed her withdrawal. For some reason, relationships with men made her uncomfortable, he realized. She seemed fine when the give and take was light and friendly, but introduce an element of seriousness or intimacy and she backed off, retreating behind a wall of caution. Why? He felt certain there was an explanation. And probably not a pleasant one. But he was equally sure that at this stage in their relationship she was not about to share it with him. He’d have to earn her trust first. And pushing or coming on too strong were not the right tactics, he warned himself. In fact, he instinctively knew that doing so would be the surest way to lose her.

  “Well, I see you’ve managed to polish off that entire concrete,” he said lightly, peering into her now empty container. His head was so close that Laura could smell the distinctive scent of his aftershave, could see the few flecks of silver in his full, incredibly soft-looking hair.

  “Uh, yes, I did, didn’t I? And on top of all that pasta, too.” She groaned. “This was not a heart-healthy meal. And it wasn’t so great for the waistline, either.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that,” he assured her.

  Laura looked at him sharply. “What do you mean?”

  Nick was taken aback by her prickly reaction. “It was a compliment, Laura. You don’t have an extra ounce of fat on your entire body.”

  She looked down dejectedly, playing with her spoon. So Nick thought she looked scrawny, too. And scrawny was not attractive.

  “Laura?” Nick’s voice was uncertain. When she didn’t look up, he reached over and gently cupped her chin in his hand, turning her head, forcing her to look at him. He gazed into her eyes, which suddenly looked miserable and lost, and felt an almost overwhelming desire to pull her into his arms. He resisted the urge with difficulty. “Laura?” he repeated questioningly, his voice now husky. “What is it?”

  She couldn’t lie, not when his eyes were locked on hers with such intensity. “I’m just sort of paranoid about being skinny,” she said softly. “It’s not very…very—” she searched for the right word “—appealing,” she finished.

  Nick frowned. Good grief, did Laura think she was unattractive? It wasn’t possible. No one could look like her and be unaware of her effect on the opposite sex. Or could they? he wondered incredulously. She didn’t seem to hold a very high opinion of her physical attributes. Yes, she was on the thin side. But most models would kill to have her figure. And he personally preferred slender women. Voluptuous beauty had never appealed to him.

  “Laura, you can’t be serious,” he said quietly, deciding that honesty was the only tactic. “You are a gorgeous woman! You knocked me off my feet today at the party in that slinky little black dress you had on.” Usually he didn’t lay his cards out on the table so early in the game, but her need for reassurance outweighed his need to protect his ego.

  Laura’s eyes reflected disbelief. “You’re being very kind, Nick, but—”

  “Laura, stop it,” he said fiercely, cutting her off abruptly. Her look of shock made him soften his tone. “Look, I am not giving you empty compliments. I respect you too much for that. I’m telling you the truth. You are an extremely attractive woman, and if I wasn’t looking into your eyes right now and reading the uncertainty, I’d think you were just fishing for compliments. It’s almost beyond my comprehension that someone who looks like you should have any doubts about her attractiveness.”

  Laura swallowed past the lump in her throat and felt hot tears forming behind her eyes. She wanted to believe Nick. Wanted to desperately. But life had made her wary. And you didn’t lose that wariness overnight, no matter how kind a person was.

  “It’s a long story, Nick,” she said softly.

  “I figured it might be.” He casually draped an arm around her shoulders. “Sometimes it helps to talk,” he offered.

  “Sometimes,” she agreed, conscious of the warmth of his fingers gently massaging her shoulder. His simple touch made her yearn for too much too soon.

  “But not now?” he suggested.

  “Not yet,” she amended, knowing she was leaving the door open for the future.

  “I’ll settle for that,” he said. “Ready to call it a night?” At her nod he stood and, extending a hand, drew her to her feet. He kept his hand familiarly in the small of her back as they walked around the car, releasing her only after he’d opened the door and she made a move to slip inside.

  “Thank you,” she said, suddenly shy.

  “You’re welcome.”

  The ride home was brief and quiet, but it was a companionable silence. Only when
he pulled up in front of her apartment and came around to open her car door did he speak, glancing around as he did so.

  “It’s not very well lit here, is it?” he said.

  “I’ve never thought about it,” she replied truthfully.

  “You don’t wander around here at night, do you?” he asked worriedly.

  “No. Nick, it’s a safe neighborhood, if that’s what you’re asking,” she assured him.

  “If you say so,” he replied, but he sounded unconvinced.

  They walked up the dimly lit stairway to her second-floor apartment, and Nick silently took the key from her hand and fitted it into the lock.

  Laura looked up at him, her eyes suddenly sad. She’d had a wonderful evening, an evening she’d never expected to have again. Now she felt a little like Cinderella at midnight as the chiming clock broke the magic spell, knowing that today had been a chance encounter that was unlikely to be repeated.

  Nick saw the melancholy look steal over her eyes and reached up to brush a few stray strands of hair back from her face. Laura’s breath caught in her throat at his intimate touch, and her heart began to pound.

  “You look suddenly unhappy, Laura,” he said, his voice edged with concern. “Didn’t you have a good time tonight?”

  “Oh, yes! I did! I’m just sorry it’s over,” she admitted. “It’s the nicest evening I’ve had in a long time,” she told him honestly. “I just hope I didn’t disrupt any of your plans. This was so unexpected.”

  “Yes, it was. And yes, you did. But I’m not complaining,” he said with a gentle smile that warmed her right down to her toes.

  “Well…” Should she ask him to come in? she wondered. What was the protocol? Did an invitation to come in automatically include an invitation for more? She’d been out of the dating world too long to know. What she did know was that casual intimacy wasn’t her style. It went against everything she believed as a Christian.

  Nick, sensing her dilemma, solved the problem. He would have liked nothing better than to follow her through that door, to hold her in his arms until she melted against him, to leisurely taste her sweet kisses. But now was not the time, and he knew it.

  “I’ll see you soon, Laura,” he said, his voice strangely husky. “Get a good night’s sleep.”

  Nick hesitated. He knew she was scared. He didn’t know why, but her fear was real. And he knew he couldn’t push her. At the same time, he had to let her know that tonight’s chance encounter had turned into a great deal more than that for him.

  Carefully, so as not to frighten her, he lifted her hair back from her face, letting its silky strands slip through his fingers. He caressed her cheek with his thumb, his eyes locked on hers. He thought he detected desire, but if so, it was so tangled up with fear that the two were indistinguishable. Suddenly fearful himself, he slowly leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers in a brief but tender kiss. He had followed his instinct, which told him to do that. But the same instinct told him to do no more. So with one last stroke of his thumb, exercising a degree of self-control that surprised him, he reluctantly stepped back.

  “Good night, Laura,” he said with a smile. “Pleasant dreams.”

  And then he disappeared down the dim stairway, leaving her filled with a deep, aching emptiness tempered only by the tender new buds of a frightening, uninvited hope.

  Chapter Five

  “I haven’t heard you mention our friend, Nick Sinclair, lately,” Sam said, helping herself to another potato skin.

  Laura glanced around the popular eatery, crowded on Saturday night with singles, and shook her head. “Why in the world did you pick this place?” she asked, the incessant din of high-pitched voices and laughter giving her a headache.

  “It’s a hot spot,” Sam informed her.

  “It’s a meat market,” Laura replied flatly.

  Sam shrugged. “Same difference. So how’s Nick?”

  Laura sighed. “Sam, do you ever give up?”

  “Nope,” she replied without apology, taking a bite out of a potato skin and chewing it thoughtfully. “That’s the problem with you, you know. You’ve given up.”

  “Given up?”

  “Yeah. On men.”

  “How is it we always end up talking about men?”

  “Because good friends should discuss important things. And men certainly fall into that category.”

  “Sam, you’ve been married—right?”

  “Right.”

  “And it was a disaster, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So how come you want to find another man and repeat the mistake?”

  “Laura,” Sam said patiently. “Just because we married two losers doesn’t mean all men are bad. So, we got unlucky. There are plenty of good men out there who would love to meet a wholesome, hardworking woman like you and a straightforward, slightly kooky woman like me. And I bet if we found the right ones, they’d treat us like queens.”

  “Yeah?” Laura said skeptically. “Well, I’m not willing to take the chance. By the way, how did your date turn out last night? Who was it this week? The accountant?”

  “Jay. The engineer. It was okay,” Sam said with a shrug. “We went to a movie, stopped for a drink, had a few laughs. You know, the usual.”

  “No. I don’t know,” Laura replied.

  “You could if you wanted to.”

  “Maybe,” she said skeptically. “Anyway, that’s not the point. I don’t want to.”

  “That’s precisely the point. This may not be your scene,” Sam said, gesturing to the bar, “but there are other ways to meet men. I’m not saying you need to go out twice a week. But twice a month would be nice. Just for diversion. How about twice a year?” she teased her.

  “I don’t have time for diversions,” Laura replied matter-of-factly. “But I must admit I’m in awe of your technique. How do you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Find all these men you go out with.”

  “I look, Laura. That’s your problem, you know. You don’t look. Even when there’s a perfectly good specimen right under your nose, do you notice? No. Which reminds me…what about Nick?” she prodded.

  “What about him?”

  “Do you see him much?”

  “When necessary.” And sometimes when not, she added silently, recalling the previous night’s impromptu dinner and trip to Ted Drewes.

  Sam gave a snort of disgust. “When necessary,” she mimicked. “Laura, for Pete’s sake, you’ve got to let a man know you’re interested or you’ll never get anywhere!”

  “I don’t want to get anywhere,” she insisted firmly.

  “Of course you do. You just don’t know you do. So when did you see him last?”

  “Sam.” There was a warning note in her voice.

  “What? Is it a state secret? I only asked a simple question.”

  “Okay, okay. Last night.”

  “Last night? As in after work?”

  “Yes,” Laura admitted. “The ground breaking for the Arts Center was yesterday, and I forgot my mirror there. You know, the one my grandmother gave me?” At Sam’s impatient nod, Laura continued. “Well, anyway, he dropped it by the apartment after the party.”

  “And?”

  “And what?”

  “What happened?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You mean he just handed you the mirror at the door and left?” Sam asked, disappointed.

  “Well, not exactly. Neither of us ate at the party…and he…well, he smelled the spaghetti sauce and…I mean, he did go out of his way. I—I couldn’t very well not ask him to stay,” Laura stammered.

  “Are you telling me you invited him to dinner?” Sam asked incredulously.

  “Yes,” Laura admitted reluctantly. “But don’t jump to any conclusions,” she warned quickly. “I felt like I owed him a favor. And besides, he practically invited himself.”

  “You don’t have to justify it to me,” Sam assured her. “I think it’s great! So what hap
pened then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Laura, it is like pulling teeth to get any information out of you,” Sam said in frustration. “I mean, you ate, you talked…then what?”

  “We went to Ted Drewes for dessert,” Laura offered.

  “Good. He extended the evening. Did you have a good time?”

  “Yes. Well, sort of. Sam…” She took a deep breath. “I was really nervous,” she admitted, playing with her glass.

  “That’s okay,” Sam assured her. “It’s perfectly natural. You haven’t dated for a while.”

  “Try fourteen years,” Laura said wryly.

  “Well, there you go. You’re just out of practice. Do you think he’ll ask you out again?”

  “What do you mean, ‘again’? He didn’t ask me out this time.”

  “Laura, you know what I mean.”

  Laura shrugged. “I don’t know. I think he had a good time,” she said cautiously.

  “Is he attached?”

  “I—I don’t think so. Sam, he…he kissed me good-night,” she said, her cheeks turning pink.

  “And you let him?” Sam asked incredulously. “Well, hallelujah!”

  “But, Sam, I’m not ready for this yet!” Laura protested.

  “Laura, you’re past ready. You’re ripe,” Sam said with her usual blunt, earthy honesty.

  Laura smiled. Leave it to Sam to home right in on the problem. The woman across from her might be too outspoken for some, but she’d been a true friend and a real lifesaver to Laura during the rough times. Sam could always be counted on to remain steadfastly loyal and supportive.

  “I’m not sure I’d go that far,” Laura replied with a smile.

  “Well, I would. So tell me, what does he look like? I assume you’ve taken inventory by now.”

  Laura flushed. “Sam, I’m not good at describing people.”

  “Well, does he look like anyone here?” Sam persisted.

  Laura let her gaze roam over the room, first through the restaurant and then through the adjoining bar. “No. I’m not good at seeing resemblances. I told you that… Oh, no!”

  “Laura, what is it?” Sam asked, alarmed by her friend’s sudden pallor.