He reached for her hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm. “Does it matter?” he asked.
“Not for tonight,” she said with a sigh.
“Good.” They resumed walking, more slowly this time. She stuck out her tongue to catch the falling snow, the way she had as a child. Wynn did, too, and they both smiled, delighted with themselves and each other.
When they approached their building on Blossom Street, K.O. was almost sad. She didn’t want the evening to end for fear she’d wake in the morning and discover it had all been a dream. Worse, she was afraid she’d find out it was just an illusion created by candlelight and gorgeous food and an enchanting carriage ride.
She felt Wynn’s reluctance as he keyed in the door code. The warmth that greeted them inside the small lobby was a welcome respite from the cold and the wind. The Christmas lights in the lobby twinkled merrily as he escorted her to her door.
“Thank you for one of the most romantic evenings of my life,” she told him sincerely.
“I should be the one thanking you,” he whispered. He held her gaze for a long moment. “May I see you again?”
She nodded. But she wasn’t sure that was wise.
“When?”
K.O. leaned against her door and held her hand to her forehead. The spell was wearing off. “I don’t think this is a good idea.” That was what she’d intended to say. Instead, when she opened her mouth, the words that popped out were, “I’m pretty much free all week.”
He reached inside his overcoat for a PDA. “Tomorrow?”
“Okay.” How could she agree so quickly, so impulsively? Every rational thought told her this relationship wasn’t going to work. At some point—probably sooner rather than later—she’d have to acknowledge that they had practically nothing in common.
“Six?” he suggested.
With her mind screaming at her to put an end to this now, K.O. pulled out her Day-Timer and checked her schedule. Ah, the perfect excuse. She already had a commitment. “Sorry, it looks like I’m booked. I have a friend who’s part of the Figgy Pudding contest.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Figgy Pudding is a competition for singing groups. It’s a fund-raising event,” she explained, remembering that he was relatively new to the area. “I told Vickie I’d come and cheer her on.” Then, before she could stop herself, she added, “Want to join me?”
Wynn nodded. “Sure. Why not.”
“Great.” But it wasn’t great. During her most recent visit with Vickie, K.O. had ranted about Dr. Jeffries for at least ten minutes. And now she was going to be introducing her friend to the man she’d claimed was ruining America. Introducing him as her...date?
She had to get out of this.
Then Wynn leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. It was such a nice kiss, undemanding and sweet. Romantic, too, just as the entire evening had been. In that moment, she knew exactly what was happening and why, and it terrified her. She liked Wynn. Okay, really liked him. Despite his crackpot theories and their total lack of compatibility. And it wasn’t simply that they’d spent a delightful evening together. A charmed evening. No, this had all the hallmarks of a dangerous infatuation. Or worse.
Wynn Jeffries! Who would’ve thought it?
Chapter Five
The phone woke K.O. out of a dead sleep. She rolled over, glanced at the clock on her nightstand and groaned. It was already past eight. Lying on her stomach, she reached for the phone and hoped it wasn’t a potential employer, asking her to come in for an interview that morning. Actually, she prayed it was a job interview but one with more notice.
“Good morning,” she said in her best businesslike voice.
“Katherine, it’s LaVonne. I didn’t phone too early, did I?”
In one easy motion, K.O. drew herself into a sitting position, swinging her legs off the bed. “Not at all.” She rubbed her face with one hand and stifled a yawn.
“So,” her neighbor breathed excitedly. “How’d it go?”
K.O. needed a moment to consider her response. LaVonne was obviously asking about her evening with Wynn; however, she hadn’t had time to analyze it yet. “Dinner was incredible,” she offered and hoped that would satisfy her friend’s curiosity.
“Of course dinner was incredible. Jerome promised me it would be. I’m talking about you and Wynn. He’s very nice, don’t you think? Did you notice the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you? Didn’t I tell you? It’s just as I saw in the kitty litter and the Raisin Bran. You two are meant for each other.”
“Well,” K.O. mumbled, not knowing which question to answer first. She’d prefer to avoid them all. She quickly reviewed the events of the evening and was forced to admit one thing. “Wynn wasn’t anything like I expected.”
“He said the same about you.”
“You’ve talked to him?” If K.O. wasn’t awake before, she certainly was now. “What did he say?” she asked in a rush, not caring that LaVonne would realize how interested she was.
“Exactly that,” LaVonne said. “Wynn told me you were nothing like he expected. He didn’t know what to think when you walked into my condo. He was afraid the evening would end with someone calling the police—and then he had a stupendous night. That was the word he used—stupendous.”
“Really.” K.O. positively glowed with pleasure.
“He had the look when he said it, too.”
“What look?”
“The look,” LaVonne repeated, emphasizing the word, “of a man who’s falling in love. You had a good time, didn’t you?”
“I did.” K.O. doubted she could have lied. She did have a wonderful evening. Shockingly wonderful, in fact, and that made everything ten times worse. She wanted to view Wynn as a lunatic confounding young parents, a grinch out to steal Christmas from youngsters all across America. How could she berate him and detest him if she was in danger of falling in love with him? This was getting worse and worse.
“I knew it!” LaVonne sounded downright gleeful. “From the moment I saw those raisins floating in the milk, I knew. The vision told me everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything,” LaVonne echoed. “It came to me, as profound as anything I’ve seen with my psychic gift. You and Dr. Jeffries are perfect together.”
K.O. buried her face in her hand. She’d fallen asleep in a haze of wonder and awakened to the shrill ring of her phone. She couldn’t explain last night’s feelings in any rational way.
She wasn’t attracted to Wynn, she told herself. How could she be? The man who believed children should set their own rules? The man who wanted to eliminate Santa Claus? But she was beginning to understand what was going on here. For weeks she’d been stuck inside her condo, venturing outside only to meet Christmas-letter clients. If she wasn’t transcribing medical records, she was filling out job applications. With such a lack of human contact, it was only natural that she’d be swept along on the tide of romance LaVonne had so expertly arranged for her.
“Wynn told me you were seeing him again this evening,” LaVonne said eagerly.
“I am?” K.O. vaguely remembered that. “Oh, right, I am.” Her mind cleared and her memory fell into place like an elevator suddenly dropping thirteen floors. “Yes, as it happens,” she said, trying to think of a way out of this. “I invited Wynn to accompany me to the Figgy Pudding event at West Lake Plaza.” She’d invited him. What was she thinking? What was she thinking? Mentally she slapped her hand against her forehead. Before this afternoon, she had to find an excuse to cancel.
“He’s very sweet, isn’t he?” LaVonne said.
“He is.” K.O. didn’t want to acknowledge it but he was. He’d done it on purpose; she just didn’t know why. What was his purpose in breaking down her defenses?
She needed to think. She pulled her feet up onto the bed and wrapped one arm around her knees
. He had been sweet and alarmingly wonderful. Oh, he was clever. But what was behind all that charm? Nothing good, she’d bet.
“I have more to tell you,” LaVonne said, lowering her voice to a mere whisper. “It happened again this morning.” She paused. “I was feeding the boys.”
K.O. had half a mind to stop her friend, but for some perverse reason she didn’t.
“And then,” LaVonne added, her voice gaining volume, “when I poured the dry cat food into their bowls, some of it spilled on the floor.”
“You got a reading from the cat food?” K.O. supposed this shouldn’t surprise her. Since LaVonne had taken that class, everything imaginable provided her with insight—mostly, it seemed, into K.O.’s life. Her love life, which to this point had been a blank slate.
“Would you like to know how many children you and Wynn are going to have?” LaVonne asked triumphantly.
“Any twins?” K.O. asked, playing along. She might as well. LaVonne was determined to tell her, whether she wanted to hear or not.
“Twins,” LaVonne repeated in dismay. “Oh, my goodness, I didn’t look that closely.”
“That’s fine.”
LaVonne took her seriously. “Still, twins are definitely a possibility. Sure as anything, I saw three children. Multiple births run in your family, don’t they? Because it might’ve been triplets.”
“Triplets?” It was too hard to think about this without her morning cup of coffee. “Listen, I need to get off the phone. I’ll check in with you later,” K.O. promised.
“Good. You’ll give me regular updates, won’t you?”
“On the triplets?”
“No,” LaVonne returned, laughing. “On you and Wynn. The babies come later.”
“Okay,” she said, resigned to continuing the charade. Everything might’ve been delightful and romantic the night before, but this was a whole new day. She was beginning to figure out his agenda. She’d criticized his beliefs, especially about Christmas, and now he was determined to change hers. It was all a matter of pride. Male pride.
She’d been vulnerable, she realized. The dinner, the wine, Chef Jerome, a carriage ride, walking in the snow. Christmas. He’d actually used Christmas to weaken her resolve. The very man who was threatening to destroy the holiday for children had practically seduced her in Seattle’s winter wonderland. What she recognized now was that in those circumstances, she would’ve experienced the same emotions with just about any man.
As was her habit, K.O. weighed herself first thing and gasped when she saw she was up two pounds. That fabulous dinner had come at a price. Two pounds. K.O. had to keep a constant eye on her weight, unlike her sister. Zelda was naturally thin whereas K.O. wasn’t. Her only successful strategy for maintaining her weight was to weigh herself daily and then make adjustments in her diet.
Even before she’d finished putting on her workout gear, the phone rang again. K.O. could always hope that it was a potential employer, but caller ID informed her it was her sister.
“Merry Christmas, Zelda,” K.O. said. This was one small way to remind her that keeping Santa away from Zoe and Zara was fundamentally wrong.
“Did you get it?” Zelda asked excitedly. “Did you get Dr. Jeffries’s autograph for me?”
“Ah...”
“You didn’t, did you?” Zelda’s disappointment was obvious.
“Not exactly.”
“Did you even talk to him?” her sister pressed.
“Oh, yes, we did plenty of that.” She recalled their conversation, thinking he might have manipulated that, too, in order to win her over to his side. The dark side, she thought grimly. Like Narnia without Aslan, and no Christmas.
A stunned silence followed. “Together. You and Dr. Jeffries were together?”
“We went to dinner....”
“You went to dinner with Dr. Wynn Jeffries?” Awe became complete disbelief.
“Yes, at Chez Jerome.” K.O. felt like a name-dropper but she couldn’t help it. No one ate at Chez Jerome and remained silent.
Zelda gasped. “You’re making this up and I don’t find it amusing.”
“I’m not,” K.O. insisted. “LaVonne arranged it. Dinner was incredible. In fact, I gained two pounds.”
A short silence ensued. “Okay, I’m sitting down and I’m listening really hard. You’d better start at the beginning.”
“Okay,” she said. “I saw Wynn, Dr. Jeffries, in the French Café.”
“I already know that part.”
“I saw him again.” K.O. stopped abruptly, thinking better of telling her sister about the confrontation and calling him names. Not that referring to him as Jim Carrey and Charles Dickens was especially insulting, but still... “Anyway, it’s not important now.”
“Why isn’t it?”
“Well, Wynn and I agreed to put that unfortunate incident behind us and start over.”
“Oh, my goodness, what did you do?” Zelda demanded. “What did you say to him? You didn’t embarrass him, did you?”
K.O. bit her lip. “Do you want to hear about the dinner or not?”
“Yes! I want to hear everything.”
K.O. then told her about cocktails at LaVonne’s and her neighbor’s connection with the famous chef. She described their dinner in lavish detail and mentioned the carriage ride. The one thing she didn’t divulge was the kiss, which shot into her memory like a flaming dart, reminding her how weak she really was.
As if reading her mind, Zelda asked, “Did he kiss you?”
“Zelda! That’s private.”
“He did,” her sister said with unshakable certainty. “I can’t believe it. Dr. Wynn Jeffries kissed my sister! You don’t even like him.”
“According to LaVonne I will soon bear his children.”
“What!”
“Sorry,” K.O. said dismissively. “I’m getting ahead of myself.”
“Okay, okay, I can see this is all a big joke to you.”
“Not really.”
“I don’t even know if I should believe you.”
“Zelda, I’m your sister. Would I lie to you?”
“Yes!”
Unfortunately Zelda was right. “I’m not this time, I swear it.”
Zelda hesitated. “Did you or did you not get his autograph?”
Reluctant though she was to admit it, K.O. didn’t have any choice. “Not.”
“That’s what I thought.” Zelda bade her a hasty farewell and disconnected the call.
Much as she hated the prospect, K.O. put on her sweats and headed for the treadmill, which she kept stored under her bed for emergencies such as this. If she didn’t do something fast to get rid of those two pounds, they’d stick to her hips like putty and harden. Then losing them would be like chiseling them off with a hammer. This, at least, was her theory of weight gain and loss. Immediate action was required. With headphones blocking outside distractions, she dutifully walked four miles and quit only when she was confident she’d sweated off what she’d gained. Still, a day of reduced caloric intake would be necessary.
She showered, changed her clothes and had a cup of coffee with skim milk. She worked on the Mulcahys’ Christmas letter, munching a piece of dry toast as she did. After that, she transcribed a few reports. At one o’clock LaVonne stopped by with a request.
“I need help,” she said, stepping into K.O.’s condo. She carried a plate of cookies.
“Okay.” K.O. made herself look away from the delectable-smelling cookies. Her stomach growled. All she’d had for lunch was a small container of yogurt and a glass of V8 juice.
“I hate to ask,” LaVonne said, “but I wasn’t sure where else to turn.”
“LaVonne, I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
Her friend nodded. “Would you write my Christmas letter for me?”
“Of course.”
That would be a piece of cake. Oh, why did everything come down to food?
“I have no idea how to do this. I’ve never written one before.” She sighed. “My life is pitiful.”
K.O. arched her brows. “What do you mean, pitiful? You have a good life.”
“I do? I’ve never married and I don’t have children. I’m getting these Christmas letters from my old college friends and they’re all about how perfect their lives are. In comparison mine is so dull. All I have are my three cats.” She looked beseechingly at K.O. “Jazz up my life, would you? Make it sound just as wonderful as my girlfriends’ instead of just plain boring.”
“Your life is not boring.” Despite her best efforts, K.O. couldn’t keep her eyes off the cookies. “Would you excuse me?”
“Ah...sure.”
“I’ll be back in a minute. I need to brush my teeth.”
Her neighbor eyed her speculatively as K.O. left the room.
“It’s a trick I have when I get hungry,” she explained, coming out of the bathroom holding her toothbrush, which was loaded with toothpaste. “Whenever I get hungry, I brush my teeth.”
“You do what?”
“Brush my teeth.”
Her friend regarded her steadily. “How many times have you brushed your teeth today?”
“Four...no, five times. Promise me you’ll take those cookies home.”
LaVonne nodded. “I brought them in case I needed a bribe.”
“Not only will I write your letter, I’ll do it today so you can mail off your cards this week.”
Her friend’s eyes revealed her gratitude. “You’re the best.”
Ideas were already forming in K.O.’s mind. Writing LaVonne’s Christmas letter would be a snap compared to finishing Bill Mulcahy’s. Speaking of him... K.O. glanced at her watch. She was scheduled to meet him this very afternoon.
“I’ve got an appointment at three,” she told her friend. “I’ll put something together for you right away, drop it off, see Bill and then stop at your place on my way back.”
A Christmas Message Page 5
