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About the Author
Bestselling and award-winning author HelenKay Dimon spent twelve years in the most unromantic career ever—divorce lawyer. After dedicating all of that effort to helping people terminate relationships, she is thrilled to deal in happy endings and write romance novels for a living. Her books have been featured in Cosmopolitan magazine and E! Online. Even better, she hasn’t had to buy panty hose in four years.
HelenKay loves hearing from her readers. You can visit her at her website: www.helenkaydimon.com.
Ask Her at Christmas
By Christi Barth
Caitlin McIntyre’s heart stops when her best friend drops to one knee and proposes. Kyle Lockhart never once hinted over the years that he has any idea she’s in love with him. Not wanting to jeopardize their friendship, she’s never let it slip. Good thing, too, since it turns out he’s only practicing—he’s about to propose to someone else.
A business merger might not be the most romantic reason to propose to a woman he barely knows, but Kyle’s determined to win the respect of the dying father who’s never seen him as quite good enough. Kyle’s always depended on Caitlin’s friendship, while trying to ignore the physical response she arouses. So he turns to her when it comes time to craft his proposal, not realizing his decision will affect their relationship, forever.
This Christmas, Kyle and Caitlin get one last chance to admit their feelings for each other, and find a mutual happily ever after, before he commits his life to another woman and Caitlin leaves town and him…for good.
24,000 words
Dedication
To my husband—my favorite co-star in many Christmas shows. The magic of the holidays
sparkles twice as bright when shared with him.
Acknowledgements
A big shout out to the MRW Scribblers for helping me become a better writer with every meeting…even when I don’t let them read the sexy stuff in advance. Immense thanks to Stephanie Dray for helping me figure out how to write my first novella. I don’t want to make other authors jealous, but Angela James is the BEST editor ever, and I’m thrilled that she polishes my stories so brilliantly. Immense and humble gratitude goes to Jaci Burton and HelenKay Dimon, for letting me share space with them in this anthology.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
About the Author
Chapter One
“Caitlin McIntyre, will you marry me?”
Her heart didn’t pound, it slammed to a standstill. It probably left thick red skid marks all over her lungs from how fast it threw on the brakes. Kyle Lockhart, her best friend in the world, was down on one knee in front of her station at the gift-wrapping booth. Which meant it was okay her heart had stopped, because she had to be dreaming. Her heart didn’t need to pump in a dream, right?
There was no other explanation for why Kyle would propose to her. Not that she objected in the least. He was super handsome, in a casually elegant yet decidedly sexy manner. His designer suits covered a body like those of the models in perfume ads, the toned and tanned men who dove into swimming pools shaped like a perfume bottle and came up glistening and wet. Thick black hair set off his blue eyes, and you could probably chisel a sculpture off his sharp cheekbones and jaw. Kyle was yummy from head to toe, and Caitlin had wanted him almost her entire life.
Of course, he didn’t know about her massive crush. She’d never hinted, never let her hands linger for an extra second on his abs when they shared sunscreen at the tiny strip of sand along Lake Michigan they called a beach. She’d never leaned over after splitting a bottle of wine and trailed a finger across the lips she would kill to have touch hers. No, Caitlin played the part of the best-friend-and-nothing-more-than-a-friend to the hilt. Because it would absolutely devastate her if she revealed her longing and he didn’t feel the same way. In a perfect world, guys always made the first move. In Caitlin’s world, it was the only way not to jeopardize the most important relationship in her life.
But how on earth did he leap from never once looking at her with a sexy gleam in his eye to going down on one knee in the middle of the Water Tower Place mall? If all the planets had magically aligned, all the gods smiled down on her and all her karmic balance suddenly tipped to one side, then Kyle might, just might finally see her as a woman and ask her out. Proposing marriage, though, was impossible. Which meant she was either fast asleep in her bed, or she’d slipped and hit her head getting off the El this morning. Ice coated the Chicago sidewalks from an early December sleet storm. A concussion would explain this. Or a hallucination from a brain hemorrhage. That would definitely explain the impossibility of Kyle’s proposal.
So if it was nothing more than a dream, why not enjoy it? Caitlin looked around, but all the other volunteer wrappers were busy putting away their supplies for the night. The wrapping booth was a fundraiser to purchase art supplies for local high schools, so the volunteers ran the gamut from tweens to grandparents. Crowds had finally thinned once it hit eight o’clock. Closer to Christmas that wouldn’t be the case, but with eighteen shopping days left, people weren’t yet panicked. She put down her roll of wrapping paper and looked at Kyle’s beaming face.
“This is so sudden.” She made a point of switching her gaze to his empty hands, folded on top of his knee. “How am I supposed to take your question seriously without a huge, shiny diamond ring to seal the deal?”
The smile disappeared faster than the stack of cashmere sweaters she’d seen on sale at Macy’s this morning. “You are so right. I’m an idiot. Of course, I should’ve brought a ring. But I’ll get one. Pretend I have a ring. Will you marry me?”
It sounded just as magical—and unbelievable—the second time he asked. If this was really a dream, wouldn’t her subconscious have made sure he brought along a one-carat, cushion-cut solitaire in a robin’s egg blue box? Now she leaned more toward concussion as an explanation. Clearly the drugs the hospital gave her must be interfering with her creative juices.
“Kyle, you’re my favorite person in the world. You’re smart and funny and movie-star handsome. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t want to marry you?”
“I agree.” He flashed her the smile that always turned her knees into pudding for a second and stood, brushing off his trousers. “But I’m worried that Monica might not be as cognizant of my charms as the two of us are. That’s why I need you to help me with my proposal. This was a test run.”
Oh. Not a dream after all. Caitlin’s heart thudded back to work, but slowly. She couldn’t bear to look at him while the truth crashed through her, so she finished rolling her paper and clipping the end. Then she taped the loose end on three ribbon spools. Falling apart in front of him was simply not an option. He’d ask why she was so upset, she’d have to admit her feelings went way past the best friend level, and Kyle might feel too awkward to ever speak to her again. The tears and the shock could wait until the comfort, and dark, of huddling beneath her comforter tonight.
“You’re going to ask Monica to marry you? Monica Selford? You barely know her.”
“Come on, we’ve been dating for about six months. Dad says it’s the right time.”
“You’re kidding.” Caitlin squared off the foil name tags into neat, color-coded piles. “There are so many things wrong with what you just said, I hardly know where to begin.”
He whipped out the pad he always carried and scribbled a note. Such a juxtaposition between his underwear model looks and his big, nerdy brain. “You mean with how I asked? Should I go with will you be my wife instead?”
“No. I mean, yes, you need to work on the actual proposal. It needs to be m
ore than just a single sentence. It should take longer than ordering a burger at the drive-through.”
More scribbling. Then he looked up and grinned at her. “See, that’s why I need your help. First of all, you’re brilliant. You helped me write all my papers in high school, and never steered me wrong. I wouldn’t have made it into Northwestern without your help. Not to mention once we were there, how you helped me through all my humanities classes.” Kyle shuddered. “Your flash cards saved me.”
He acted as if he wasn’t always the smartest person in the class. As if he hadn’t graduated with honors, practically with one hand tied behind his back. As if he hadn’t just dropped the biggest bombshell of all time. How could he yammer on about flash cards when she’d lost all capacity for thought at the word proposal? Caitlin needed to stall while figuring out what to do. What on earth to say to him. How to resist pouting about the unfairness of his almost-proposal to her. “Studying together helped me, too. Besides, you made it all the way through grad school without any help from me.”
“It was brutal. Sheer torture. I’m not sure if I’ll ever forgive you for abandoning me to the wilds of MIT.”
Now it was her turn to shudder at the thought. They’d established long ago that Kyle did numbers, Caitlin did words. “Trust me, I’d have been lost. There wasn’t any place for an art history major at MIT.”
“You’re right. They were a bunch of boring science types. Like me, but without the charm and sex appeal.” Kyle struck a weightlifter pose and flexed. In his suit, it came off as way more ridiculous than sexy, but Caitlin loved that about him. He took his allure to the opposite sex in stride, always happy to crack self-deprecating jokes. Did Monica love that about him? Did she even know? Kyle and Monica’s dating history ran more toward the gala-escort type of dates, not talking until two in the morning, sharing everything about each other. How much did you really learn at a gala besides whether your date prefers white or red?
Kyle straightened, bumping his fist against her upper arm. “That’s why I was so happy to come home to Chicago. And you.”
She’d been over the moon the day he came home. It was so easy for them to slip back into their roles. To call each other every night and rehash the day. To meet for coffee in the morning, and celebrate Fridays at their favorite Mexican restaurant.
“Well, there wasn’t any place for you math geeks at my grad school, either. The Art Institute prescreens very carefully to weed them out.” Their comfortable banter didn’t distract Caitlin from the whole proposal discussion. In fact, she couldn’t think of anything short of a grenade going off in the fountain behind her that could possibly take up more space in her brain than Kyle’s announcement.
“I know, I know. Art and science—never the twain shall meet. Except when they’re best friends. Which brings me back to the problem at hand.” Kyle rifled back through his pad. “Where was I? Oh, the reasons you should help me propose to Monica.”
“You made a list to convince me?” The idea rankled her. Caitlin was supposed to be his go-to for, well, everything. Rain or shine. Rock or a hard place. “Since when have I ever said no to you?”
Kyle held up his hands, palms up. “Hey, I didn’t make the list. My team at work came up with it. Over lunch today I mentioned my plan to ask you for help, and they called it a suicide mission. Insisted that I come prepared with cogent arguments.”
“I’m shocked. Your team knows less about women than the pope.” Kyle led a group of programmers at his family’s security company. Nice guys, to be sure, but as geeky as a pocket protector stuffed into a tuxedo on prom night.
“Which brings me to point number two. What with you being a woman, you’ve got natural instincts about this sort of thing.” He flashed another toothpaste ad smile and perched on the corner of her station.
Caitlin slapped at his hand as he fiddled with a ribbon end. “Actually, the man usually proposes. Men are the ones with instinct.”
“An instinct to claim our mate, sure. But dragging a woman off by her hair to my castle, would, at the very least, be termed politically incorrect. If not get me jailed for assault. I can do the deed. You, however, can tell me what a woman wants.”
He had a point. Caitlin didn’t care for Monica. Cold, brittle and enamored equally of the bottom line and her own reflection. Kyle, however, did deserve a romantic memory to last a lifetime. And he definitely deserved an unhesitating yes. Under the right circumstances, even Monica’s sharp and pointy heart couldn’t resist squeezing out the requisite tender response.
The carolers came back from their dinner break and gathered at the base of the giant poinsettia Christmas tree in the center of the mall’s atrium. Every night was a different group. Caitlin never knew when she showed up for her shift if they’d be adorable kids, earnest tweens, or amazing choristers from the Lyric Opera. Tonight’s group of adults wore period costumes—hats, muffs and lots of velvet. They must be in one of the myriad of Christmas shows. She adored getting to hear live holiday music while she volunteered at the gift-wrapping booth. Of course, who didn’t love listening to carols?
“I’ve got it.” Caitlin jumped up from her seat. Her enthusiastic overhead fist pump almost knocked over one of the miniature decorated trees on the ledge behind her. Kyle caught it just before it sent the entire row crashing like tinsel-covered dominoes. “Oops. Nice catch. Your video game addiction is really fine-tuning those hand-eye reflexes.”
“This better be one heck of an idea.”
“Don’t worry, it is.” She gathered her coat, scarf and purse. “Follow me, and your proposal problem will be solved.”
“I appreciate this, don’t get me wrong.” Kyle trailed behind her as she worked her way through bag-laden shoppers to the mall’s entrance. “And I’m not reneging on my early assertion about your brilliance.”
“I should hope not.”
“But when I asked for your help, I kind of thought you’d put some effort into it. A marriage proposal is a big deal.”
“The biggest,” she agreed. And as soon as she figured out what to say, she planned to talk him out of it. She was still too much in shock from his announcement to put together a coherent argument. So until she pried out of him exactly why he’d decided to pull this crazy stunt, she’d play along.
“Worthy of, oh, I don’t know, more than thirty seconds of thought? Perhaps you could’ve spared five whole minutes out of your day to ponder how to shape the make-or-break event that could change my life forever?”
“When inspiration strikes, I never second-guess it. You’re too technical to appreciate the whimsical ebbs and flows of creativity.” Caitlin stopped a few steps through the door. The crisp winter night turned her breath into fog puffs. Jam-packed with bumper-to-bumper cars as always, Michigan Avenue looked especially festive with its blocks and blocks of lighted trees. To her native Chicago ears, the constant honking blurred into a sort of soothing white noise.
Kyle looked around at the traffic, the parade of brightly colored hats and parkas strolling by, then spread his hands, palms up. “This is your big idea? What do you want me to do, stand on a sidewalk and hope a mugger doesn’t take the ring before I put it on her finger?”
“You’re so literal.” Caitlin pointed across the street at the massive three-story high Christmas tree in front of the Water Tower. “That’s my idea. Ask her at Christmas.”
Chapter Two
Kyle yanked on his cashmere-lined leather gloves. When that didn’t do the trick, he crossed his arms and stuck his hands in his pits. “It’s freezing out here.”
“Did you honestly expect a balmy ocean breeze in Chicago three weeks before Christmas?” Caitlin finished lacing her skates and pulled on orange mittens, a few shades brighter than her red hair. He’d given them to her for her birthday, after she complained about not being able to spot her coat in a pile of identical black ones at a party. Along with the matching scarf, she now stood out from the crowd like a fiery beacon.
“Very funny.”
/> “No, but I don’t see why we’re out here at night.” He looked around at the crowded Millennium Park ice rink, perfectly at home. Like many Midwestern boys, he’d gotten his first pair of hockey skates before he could walk. Kyle still played pickup games with some college kids up in Evanston when he needed to blow off stress. Nothing worked up a sweat and cleared out the mind like skating laps full out while being chased by five guys with sticks.
“Because there’s nothing romantic about proposing during the day. High noon is the time for a shootout, not a declaration of eternal love.” Caitlin held out her open, fuzzy orange palm. “Let’s hit the ice.”
Kyle ignored her hand and picked her up instead, fingers spread wide at her waist. She squealed and flung her arms around his neck, hanging on for dear life.
“Don’t drop me!”
He swung her in a wide circle as he skated onto the ice. He always got a kick out of how she pretended to be scared, but the sparkle in her cognac eyes told a different story. “You say that every time. We’ve come to this rink for how many years now? Have I ever dropped you?
“You’d better not. I’d also recommend not doing any of your fancy lifts for Monica.” After he set her down on both feet, Caitlin grabbed for the anchor of his arm. “Sure, it shows off those slamming biceps you insist on hiding most of the time, but it scares the pants off your liftee.”
“Quit complaining. We’ll skate a few slow and boring laps to get you comfortable.”
“Perfect.” Caitlin pointed at the row of trees filled with twinkle lights bordering the rink. “See those? Romantic and holiday lighting, level one.” Then she pointed up at the dramatic illumination of the Chicago skyline. “There’s your second level of mood lighting.”
God, he loved this city. The way it speared out of the nothingness of the prairie like the crystalline pillars of Krypton always thrilled his inner sci-fi nerd. “Okay, it’s a terrific view. Are we done?”
Romancing the Holiday Page 12
