The music stopped, and so did their feet. They found themselves in the center of the floor, and they looked at each other, then, keeping in the mood, their faces gravitated toward each other.
They kissed with the hint of romance that their dancing had held, but with a controlled fervor.
How Miranda loved being in this man’s arms. He was everything she wanted in a man…handsome… tall…sensitive…kind…protective…comforting. He had the ability to make her dancing dreams come true—and she suspected every other one as well. He also had the power to set her body aflame. Her craving for him had become more and more powerful.
If only he believed that a forever love was possible. Miranda would like nothing more than to live in that cottage filled with lilacs and laughter that Cassandra sang about, where together they could learn the meaning of the ‘ever after’ mentioned in the lyrics. She knew that she had found her prince, but if he didn’t feel the same it meant nothing would ever come of it.
Their lips separated, but they remained in an embrace. The scent of cocoa butter radiated from his skin. She savored the feel of his arms around her, and he held her tightly, more so than he’d ever done before. She couldn’t see his face, but she wondered what he was thinking…
Before going home they stopped at the mall, where they agreed to meet at Panera Bread after ninety minutes of independent shopping. Miranda only saw a handful of brown faces as she made her way through the mall, but she was pleased to see that the AMC theater had the new romantic comedy with a largely African-American cast among its offerings.
After making purchases for Jon and his mother and grandmother, she realized that she wasn’t sure which direction to go to meet Jon, and there was no directory outside of the department store where she’d made her purchases, probably because it was not located near an entrance.
She looked around and, spotting a fair-skinned tall African-American man, quickly approached him. “Pardon me, sir, but can you tell me which way Panera Bread is?”
The man smiled at her. “Well, Merry Christmas.”
“Thank you.” Miranda couldn’t help smiling back at him. He was in his early thirties, with a gorgeous smile and a handsome, dimpled face. Unmistakably blue eyes suggested a mixed background. Her first thought was that he would be perfect for Aislinn.
She blinked, realizing that she didn’t consider herself in the market…even though, regardless of her feelings for Jon, her time with him would likely melt away with the last of the snowfall come spring.
That was frightening…for it meant that she was headed straight for heartbreak.
She put on a brave face for the gentleman she had asked for directions, who now asked her, “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“No, I’m…just visiting.”
“I see. Well, I happen to be headed over by Panera. Why don’t I escort you there, and you can tell me all about it?”
They fell into step by unspoken agreement. “There’s not much to tell,” she remarked, still somewhat shaken by the knowledge that she had a distinct lack of interest in this handsome specimen. Her desire for Jon wasn’t just a passing fad that would fade as soon as she met a good-looking black man. It was both real and unshakable.
But didn’t that make sense, given the circumstances? This man, good looks aside, was a total stranger to her. For all she knew, he could be a serial killer. But she knew Jon. He had proven himself to be a thoroughly decent man, one who wouldn’t hesitate to defend her honor and to come to her rescue when she was terrified of boarding another plane after that awful episode. It was only natural that she would be drawn to him. The only thing she had in common with the man walking beside her now was their race…and she now realized that wasn’t enough.
It was only a brief walk to the restaurant, and her companion tried his best to charm her while keeping the conversation impersonal. Miranda wasn’t interested, but it boosted her ego to have such a handsome man flirt with her.
Jon stood outside Panera Bread, taking in the sights and sounds of a busy shopping mall two days before Christmas. He hummed ‘Silver Bells’ along with the piped-in music and cheerfully returned the smiles of the women whose eyes lingered on him as they passed him by, often adding a jolly-sounding “Merry Christmas!”
It was going to be a very happy holiday. Incredible how he’d gone from fearing that he was about to disintegrate into tiny particles mid-air to not only landing safely, but getting to spend the entire holiday with Miranda. This was a better bonus than the five grand he’d gotten from work.
He’d gotten an idea of what to get her for Christmas before he left Bismarck, and he headed straight for the appropriate merchant to get it. It was perfect, small and not too personal. Then, while shopping for the bathrobe his mother told him his grandmother needed, he’d stumbled across another item that would be perfect for Miranda and had gotten that as well.
Something odd had happened to him when they danced at his family’s studio. It had been like magic, just the two of them spinning around in perfect symmetry, as if they were competing. Jon had been raised in the world of dance, of course, but he hadn’t done any ballroom dancing since he’d been an adolescent. He’d never danced with any of the women he’d dated over the years, except for the occasional wedding, and never had he felt the way he did when he danced with Miranda. That spark had existed between them since that very first night of class, when he impulsively dipped her. When they moved together it was special, and that something special spilled over into the rest of their relationship.
He wasn’t sure what it was. All he knew was that he liked it.
A shiver of anticipation ran down his spine when he saw Miranda in the distance, but his back went rigid at the sight of the man who walked beside her. It didn’t surprise him that she’d caught this man’s eye. Eden Prairie’s African-American population was less than three percent, most of whom were families.
He straightened his posture. He didn’t know who this fellow was, but if he thought he was going to move in on Miranda, he was about to experience a sudden change in plans.
He squinted. Wait a minute. That guy looked like—
“Jon?”
He grinned. “Garrett!”
Miranda looked on in amazement as the two hugged with one arm and shook hands with the other. “You two know each other,” she said with surprise.
“We went to high school together, played basketball and ran track,” Jon said.
“Is this who you’re visiting?” the man named Garrett asked Miranda.
“Yes. I was actually going to continue on to Milwaukee, but we were on that flight with the turbulence, and I…couldn’t,” she explained.
“I’m going to drive Miranda to her parents in Racine early Christmas morning,” Jon added. “We’ll spend a few days there and then head back here. Neither of us is thrilled with the idea of flying, but we really don’t have much choice.”
“I’m glad you guys are okay. But Jon, aren’t you going to introduce us?”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was just so surprised to see you. Miranda Rhett, Garrett Thomas. Hey,” Jon added, “We were just going to grab some lunch. Why don’t you join us?”
“Sure.” Garrett took Miranda’s arm as they headed toward the restaurant. “You know, Jon, if Miranda is an example of the population of Bismarck, I really need to think about relocation.”
“Hold the job search,” Jon replied with a grin. “Not only is Miranda pretty unique to Bismarck, but she’s taken.” He met her eyes, liking the way she smiled back at him.
In two separate Bismarck living rooms, two mouths dropped open at the news footage of the story of a traumatic one-hour flight from Bismarck to Minneapolis. An ashen Jon Lindbergh, his palm resting possessively on the shoulder of a shaken-looking Miranda Rhett, spoke to a reporter about those terror-filled moments in the sky. Surely this was no coincidence that the two of them had been traveling together.
One of them sighed in resignation and defeat.
&n
bsp; The other said aloud, “He’s going to pay…”
Chapter 22
Miranda looked around nervously. She was easily the only African-American present among the congregation that she estimated numbered three hundred people.
“Nothing to be afraid of,” Jon whispered.
“Easy for you to say,” she hissed back. But if anything, she saw curiosity in the eyes of the other worshipers rather than hostility. The woman behind her leaned forward and softly said, “Welcome,” to which Miranda replied, “Thank you.” She began to relax a little. So the people of this Lutheran church made up a snow-white congregation. Didn’t loving the Lord give them all something in common? Weren’t holiday services all about peace on earth and good will toward men?
The service began, and midway through the pastor asked all visitors to stand. Miranda refused to be the only one standing, but a glance around revealed about twenty percent of the worshipers were on their feet, including many children, no doubt visiting their grandparents. Jon’s five-year-old nephew, Justin, leaned across his uncle and informed her in a loud whisper that she was supposed to stand. Miranda smiled. The boy had a natural, childlike innocence and friendliness that he would likely outgrow in a year or two. Miranda knew it was natural to outgrow innocence as one matured, but she hoped Justin’s genial nature would remain. She reluctantly got to her feet, knowing that sitting would only raise more curiosity, for everyone here knew she wasn’t a member of this church.
The service resumed after all visitors had been acknowledged, concluding with a rendition of Silent Night, initially sung by a soloist, so beautifully that it brought tears to Miranda’s eyes, with the rest of the congregation joining in.
When they returned to Jon’s mother’s home, they sat down to the Christmas Eve dinner traditional in many Scandinavian households. Miranda tasted Birgitta’s crabmeat-stuffed salmon and pronounced it the best she’d ever tasted. Everyone praised the macaroni-and-cheese that Miranda had contributed. It was the one dish she excelled at, and she quietly blessed her mother when both Sara, Jon’s sister, asked for the recipe after watching her children eat so much of it. It went well with the leftover ham from the previous day’s dipping.
They ate themselves into a stuffed state. At seven-thirty Sara, Jon’s sister, left with the children; they had plans to go caroling in their neighborhood. “I’m sorry to leave so early,” she said apologetically to Miranda, “but I didn’t know you and Jon would be leaving tomorrow.”
“I know. It all came up at the last minute.”
“I’m just glad you guys landed safely. That must have been terrifying.”
A little hand pulled at Sara’s sweater. “Mama! Gifts?”
Sara chuckled as she bent to pick up her three-year-old daughter. “Yes, Kristen. Gifts. Not until tomorrow.” Sara placed the child down, and Miranda watched in amusement as she ran to her big brother, presumably to report what he already knew.
“Sorry about that. She’s all excited about Santa, now that she’s old enough to understand,” Sara said apologetically. “I’m still working on teaching her not to interrupt me when I’m talking.”
“That’s all right,” Miranda replied. Speaking softly, she added, “Your mother showed me their gifts. They’re going to have a wonderful Christmas.” Nina had stored boxes of brightly wrapped packages in her bedroom closet, including a dollhouse for Kristen plus an assembled shiny red two-wheeled bicycle for Justin. “I guess you’ll be coming over early tomorrow morning?”
“Oh, we’ll be here by seven a.m. at the latest,” Sara replied with a laugh. “After lunch their father will pick them up and will keep them the rest of the day. It’ll all work out perfectly. I’ve got plans to go to the movies with some friends tomorrow night.”
She was lucky to have such good support, Miranda thought. Sara was about her own age. It couldn’t be easy, being the custodial parent of two small children. What an unhappy coincidence that all the marriages in the family had failed. “Well, Merry Christmas, Sara.”
“The same to you, Miranda. Come and see us again.”
After Sara and the children left, Jon and Miranda helped Nina bring down the children’s gifts and placed them under the tree. Then both Nina and Birgitta went up to their rooms, each holding a glass of eggnog.
“I’m going to have another piece of salmon, now that I’ve digested the first,” Jon said. “Can I heat something up for you?”
“Sure, why not? It was delicious.” No wonder Jon said crabmeat-stuffed salmon was his favorite.
After they ate, Miranda fixed them eggnogs while Jon started a fire. By the time she carried the drinks into the adjoining family room, Jon had plugged in the tree, put on a CD his mother had burned that featured music from her favorite Christmas recordings by various artists, and was stoking the fire.
Nina Lindbergh had great taste in music, Miranda thought. She had all the classics on that CD, from Vince Guaraldi’s famed jazz score for A Charlie Brown Christmas to that other Charles Brown, the blues musician, making his classic holiday plea, Please Come Home For Christmas.
Miranda sat on one of the two oversized pillows he’d pulled from the corner and placed in front of the fireplace. “Looks nice, Jon.”
He turned off the lights before coming to sit beside her, leaving the room bathed in only the twinkling lights from the tree and the glow of the fire. “That’s even better, don’t you think?” he asked as he sat beside her.
“Yes, it’s very festive.” She couldn’t help thinking, and romantic…
He lifted his glass. “Here’s to coming through a harrowing experience and being able to celebrate both the day before the day before and the day before.”
They clicked their glasses and took sips from their drinks. In addition to spiking their eggnogs with bourbon, Miranda had topped them with ground nutmeg and added a generous portion of sprayed whipped cream. She felt the cream in the space between her upper lip and bottom of her nose and started to lick it away.
“No,” Jon said. “Let me.”
Her breath caught in her throat when he moved in close and licked away the cream.
“Sweet,” he said, his face so close to hers that she felt his breath.
Miranda’s eyes closed as she gave in to the pleasure of his kiss, forgetting that they were essentially out in the open and could be seen by anyone coming down the stairs.
“That was even sweeter,” he said when the kiss ended. “I’ve got a little something for you.” He reached under the coffee table and pulled out a small box wrapped in shiny red paper. “I was going to give it to you at the airport when you continued on to Milwaukee, and then I was going to wait until tomorrow, but the mood seems right to give it to you tonight.”
“Oh. How thoughtful of you.”
“Go ahead, open it.”
She tore the paper and opened the small white box. Inside was a silver charm of a man and woman dancing. “Jon, it’s lovely.”
“Since I’ve never seen you without your charm bracelet, I thought it was perfect. When you wear it, think of dancing with me.”
“I’m going to add it right now.” Miranda undid the clasp of her bracelet, removed a charm of a pair of ballerina slippers, which she put in the box the new one had come in, and replaced it with the new charm. She smiled at him as she refastened the bracelet around her wrist. “I got something for you, too. I was going to give it to you when we got to my parents’. Our family always opens our gifts Christmas morning. But I can get it for you now. It’s in my suitcase downstairs.” She started to get up, but he took hold of her arm and held her in place.
“That gift can wait,” he said, his voice husky. “It’s the other gift I’d like now.”
Miranda’s brow furrowed. “What other gift?”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “The one I’m familiar with. I already know I want it, and what’s more, I already know it’s a perfect fit.”
Miranda felt her body tensing. His soft, intimate tone, as well
as the way his eyes darkened, made the identity of the present he expected from her clear as a Waterford vase. He was moving closer and closer...
Jon’s lips came more and more into focus, and as his face filled her line of vision her eyes focused on them.
Immediately Miranda’s tenseness relaxed. It seemed so natural, to kiss Jon while relaxing with spiked eggnog in front of the fire, the lights of the Christmas tree blinking, the smell of pine cones in the air, and a slow, dreamy holiday song on the CD player.
“And I want to open it up right here and now,” he whispered against her lips.
“Jon—” Miranda began to protest, then caught her breath in her throat when she felt his hands slip under her sweater. His hands felt so warm, so right on her body. “Mmm.” She held her breath as his hands inched up higher until his palms closed around her breasts. Suddenly she remembered where they were. She managed to find her voice and tried once more to get his attention, more urgently this time. “Jon—” Once more, she only got the one word out, this time being silenced by his kiss. She gave in to the sensations swirling throughout her body, and when his hands left the inside of her sweater to bring her into a full embrace, she returned it, throwing her arms around him with abandon and wanting. Their muffled moans and the crackling of the fire filled the room, to a backdrop of James Taylor’s soothing voice as he performed a romantic rendition of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas.
A Kiss of a Different Color Page 20
