Holding Out for Christmas

by Janet Dailey

  Two of the handsomest men Megan had ever seen were standing by the fireplace. The dark-haired George Clooney type would be Rush, the vet. The other, more of a Jude Law look-alike, would be Travis. They greeted her with friendly smiles.

  “And here’s Tracy,” Conner said as a slim, blond woman walked out of the kitchen. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  As Tracy walked toward her, smiling, Megan stifled a gasp. She knew this woman. And what was worse, Tracy knew about her alter ego Lacy. One slip and the situation could get awkward.

  Conner was oblivious to her discomfort. “Tracy,” he said, “this is my new friend, Megan. She—”

  “But we’ve already met.” Tracy’s handclasp was warm and welcoming. “Remember, Megan? You drove Daniel to my house last year to get one of the kittens I was giving away. You told me you were a teacher—and then I discovered something amazing about you.”

  Megan raised an eyebrow, her attempt at a warning glance. “That’s right, Tracy. I remember you very well. Why don’t you let me help you in the kitchen, and we can talk.”

  Incredibly, Tracy appeared to have gotten the message. “That would be great. You can toss the salad while we catch up.” She tugged Megan toward the door and into the kitchen.

  “Thank you.” Megan breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them.

  “What is it?” Tracy asked. “As a judge, I’ve learned to read people. I could tell you were uneasy. Did I say something wrong?”

  “Not really. But I was afraid you might. It’s just that Conner doesn’t know about the other me—the woman who sings with the band. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

  “Wow,” Tracy said. “So it’s sort of like having a secret identity.”

  “What are you two whispering about?” Maggie had come into the kitchen. “Did I hear something about a ‘secret identity’?”

  Tracy glanced at Megan. “Can I tell her?”

  “You can tell her, but nobody else, especially not Conner,” Megan said.

  “Don’t worry,” Maggie said. “I love a good, juicy secret, but my lips will be sealed. Tell me.”

  “Cross your heart?” Tracy glanced toward the door to make sure it was closed.

  “Cross my heart and hope to die.” Maggie made the gesture with her fingertip. “This had better be good.”

  “Believe me, it is.” Tracy glanced at Megan, as if to confirm that it was okay to reveal her secret, then bent closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Remember last year’s Christmas Ball and that terrific singer who performed with the band?”

  Maggie chuckled. “How could I forget? Conner was out of his mind over her. He’s been counting the days, hoping he’ll see her again and—oh no!” She stared at Megan. “Oh, Lordy, I just put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

  At the mention of Conner, Megan’s mouth had gone dry. Her stomach felt as if she’d just swallowed a fist-sized ball of glue. Against her better judgment, she’d begun to like the charming cowboy. But Lacy already had her hooks in him.

  Sometimes I can’t stand Lacy!

  “Megan, I’m sorry!” Maggie shook her head. “I’ve got a big mouth. Sometimes it just runs on and on. I can tell Conner likes you a lot. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have invited you here tonight, to meet his friends.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Maggie,” Megan said. “Conner and I barely know each other, but I’ve already learned that he’s had plenty of girlfriends. He’s a charmer, but, believe me, I have no expectations.”

  “Wait!” Tracy’s gaze darted from one woman to the other. “Maggie, you still haven’t figured it out, have you?”

  Maggie blinked. “Figured out what?”

  “The secret—the one you swore not to tell.”

  “Oh—I did get sidetracked, didn’t I?”

  “You’ll have to forgive her, Megan,” Tracy said. “Maggie’s been in la-la land ever since she and Travis set their wedding date.”

  “So, what’s the secret?” Maggie asked. “We were talking about the singer.”

  “Yes,” Tracy said. “The singer is Megan. I found out when I met her last year.”

  “What?” Maggie stared. “No way! Megan, was that really you?”

  “Me with a wig and makeup and a fancy outfit,” Megan said. “I tried, but I couldn’t get singing gigs as myself— not glamorous enough, I was told. So I became her—Lacy Leatherwood.”

  “And Conner doesn’t know!” Maggie giggled. “Oh, this is rich! This is just delicious!”

  “And we won’t tell him, will we?” Tracy reminded her.

  “Please don’t tell anybody,” Megan said. “I like to keep my secret identity just that—a secret. It tends to spoil things—all kinds of things—if people know.”

  “Then how did Tracy find out?” Maggie asked.

  “I recognized her voice when she came to my house with Daniel,” Tracy said. “It was just after the ball, so the memory was fresh.”

  “I saw you in costume before the ball,” Tracy said. “You were on Main Street, watching the parade.”

  “Yes, I was. The boys in the band thought it might be good for promotion. But I felt like a freak, walking around for people to notice. I won’t be doing it again.”

  “That’s where Conner first saw you,” Tracy said. “He was driving the team that pulled Santa’s sleigh.”

  “I saw him, too. I remember making eye contact and thinking he was cute.”

  Maggie raised the lid on the slow cooker to check the pot roast. “And I remember Travis telling me, after the parade, how Conner had raved on and on about this beautiful woman he saw in the crowd.”

  Megan sighed. “But that wasn’t me. It was Lacy Leatherwood, a fake person who doesn’t even exist in real life. That’s why I can’t tell him the truth. It would make things . . . impossible.”

  Maggie put an arm around Megan. “Don’t worry. We understand, and your secret is safe with us. But I hope you won’t mind if we enjoy the drama a little. We’ve waited a long time to see Conner throw his heart in the ring.”

  “And if you need to talk, remember you’ve got friends,” Tracy said.

  Just then, there was a rap from the other side of the kitchen door. “Excuse the interruption, but we’re starving out here.” The deep voice was Travis’s. “Unless there’s been some emergency—”

  “No . . . no. I’m getting the roast out.” Maggie swung the door open. “Come on in. You’re just in time to carve it for me while I dish up the vegetables and gravy. Then we can eat.”

  The small kitchen was getting crowded. Megan allowed herself to be nudged back into the living room, where Conner stood by the fireplace. He came forward to meet her and draw her into the circle of warmth.

  “What did I tell you about those two ladies?” he asked. “Was I right?”

  “You were.” Megan stared into the flames, avoiding his eyes. “They’re lovely, and very down-to-earth.”

  “You’re lovely, too, Megan.” He lifted her face with a touch of his thumb under her chin. “I like the way the firelight reflects in your eyes.”

  Megan made herself smile, but her response was forced. Conner was saying nice things to her. But he was only mouthing pretty words. It was Lacy—the fake version of herself—that he really wanted.

  Chapter 4

  Sitting next to Megan at dinner, Conner studied her delicate profile. His gaze traced the soft petal curve of her lips, her pert nose, and the fringe of eyelashes that cast shadows on her cheeks. He’d thought she was cute from the first time he saw her. But now, he realized that she was more than cute. She was beautiful. And it wasn’t just her looks that appealed to him. It was something else—an inner spark that lit her face and her voice when she spoke of things she cared about, such as her family and her young students.

  He was liking her even more than he’d planned. But something, he sensed, was wrong.

  Megan appeared to be having a good time with his friends, laughing at their jokes, complimenting Maggie on the meal,
smiling at everyone around the table—even him. But the smiles she gave him were only with her lips. Her eyes held a glint of cold steel—almost as if he’d somehow become the enemy.

  What had changed? Had she heard something from Maggie and Tracy behind that closed kitchen door—a bit of gossip, an unfounded rumor—that had raised her defenses? He’d been honest about the women he’d dated. She’d seemed fine with that. And it wasn’t as if he were hiding a scandalous secret. His life was an open book—all she had to do was google him online, something he would bet she’d already done.

  But he wasn’t imagining things. Megan’s manner toward him showed signs of strain. And he liked her too much to shrug and walk away. He wouldn’t be satisfied until he found out what was troubling her.

  * * *

  “You mentioned that you were in town last Christmas, Megan.” It was Rush who’d asked the question. “Did you make it to the Cowboy Christmas Ball? I don’t recall seeing you there.”

  “No, I was . . . busy.” It was a half-truth; Lacy had been the one at the ball. Megan should have anticipated the question, but it had caught her off guard. To make it through the evening without revealing her secret, she would have to come up with some creative answers. She could only hope that her new friends would back her up.

  “But you’re going this year, aren’t you?” Travis asked. “It’s the biggest event of the year. The whole town shows up. Great western food, costumes, and dancing. And it’s not like you need a date. You just go and have fun.”

  “I’m afraid I have other plans.” Megan sipped a glass of the wine she’d brought. “Sorry, it does sound like a good time. I’m sure my brother, Daniel, will be there. He loves to go and dance with Katy. Her parents will pick him up and take them.”

  “What about your parents, Megan?” Tracy asked, deftly changing the subject. “You mentioned that your mother is in a wheelchair. But surely she’d enjoy getting out. And she’s an artist. And people—including me—would enjoy meeting her.”

  “My parents tend to keep to themselves,” Megan said. “But, yes, I think they might enjoy it. I’ll do my best to encourage them.”

  Conner had been uncharacteristically silent. Megan could just imagine what he was thinking. He wanted to be free to hit on Lacy, if and when she showed up. Right now, he was probably squirming at the thought that Megan expected to be invited as his date.

  If only she hadn’t promised her friends—the Badger Hollow Boys—that Lacy would sing with their band. If she hadn’t made that commitment, she would have been free to enjoy the ball as herself or simply stay home. And Conner’s hopes of seeing his dream woman would’ve been for nothing.

  She gave her head a mental shake. She’d read Shakespearean plays that were less complicated than this mess. It was a true Comedy of Errors.

  “Well, I’m sorry to miss the fun,” she said. “But I really do have plans. Here’s hoping you all have a great time at the ball.”

  “Maybe that singer will come with the band again.” Rush helped himself to another slice of pot roast. “She wasn’t bad. Maybe not Grand Ole Opry material, but I think everybody enjoyed her.”

  Megan winced as the truth stabbed home. Deep down, she’d always feared that she might not have what it took to succeed—not even as Lacy. In the dog-eat-dog world of show business, it took grit, determination, and luck to make it big. But most of all, it took talent. If the talent wasn’t there, all the hard work in the world wouldn’t be enough.

  She blinked back the tears that sprang to her eyes, hoping no one would notice. Rush’s innocent remark had given voice to her worst fear—that she just wasn’t good enough.

  But that didn’t mean she was ready to give up. She had to believe in herself. She had to keep chasing her dream until there was no dream left to chase.

  Maggie and Tracy were exchanging glances—knowing looks that spoke a clear message. “I thought she was wonderful,” Maggie said. “The way she held the crowd’s attention, and made it fun for everybody, was great. And she had a beautiful voice.” She rose from her chair. “Now, who’s ready for dessert? Apple pie with ice cream, if you’ve got room for it.”

  “I’ll help you serve.” Megan stood, almost too hastily, and followed Maggie into the kitchen.

  “Thanks,” she said as the door swung shut behind them. “Things were getting awkward in there.”

  “Well, just so you know, I meant every word I said about your performance. I thought you did great.”

  “You’re very kind,” Megan said. “And thank you for keeping my secret.”

  “The ice cream’s in the freezer. You can scoop it out.” Maggie cut the pie into six wedges and began lifting them carefully onto saucers. Megan dug out a scoop of vanilla for each piece. “You know,” Maggie said, “it might be simpler to just tell Conner the truth. He’s a good guy, and I can tell he likes you. He’ll deal with it.”

  “Deal with it how?” Megan finished scooping and put the ice-cream carton back into the freezer. “You know that Lacy isn’t real. But she’s like having this glamorous girl buddy who always steals your boyfriends. If Conner knew I was Lacy, he would want me to be Lacy. And that would ruin everything.”

  “I understand your point.” Maggie picked up three of the saucers, leaving the rest for Megan. “But how long can you keep him from knowing the truth? No man likes to be made a fool of. If Conner sees Lacy at the ball and realizes he’s been played, he’s not going to take it well.”

  Megan picked up the remaining saucers and followed Maggie back into the dining room. Her new friend was right. Conner was a proud man. The longer she kept her secret from him, the more upset he was likely to be when he discovered the truth.

  But letting Lacy into the picture would ruin her friendship with a man she was liking far more than she’d planned. Conner was smart, funny, gentle, and sexy enough to make her pulse race every time he touched her. But he’d already fallen for Lacy. And Megan had learned the hard way that she couldn’t compete with her glamorous alter ego.

  So, what should she do now?

  Walk away, that was the sensible answer. She would end things with Conner before they got any more complicated. At the Christmas Ball, she could perform as Lacy and disappear before Conner had a chance to get close and recognize her. Her friends in the band would help her make a clean getaway. No ugly questions, no lies, and no regrets—except for never knowing what might have been.

  * * *

  The evening ended early, with the understanding that the three partners would need to be up before dawn. As Megan said her good nights to Maggie and Tracy, she felt the pang of impending loss. Breaking off with Conner would mean losing these two delightful women as her friends. But some things couldn’t be helped, she reminded herself as Conner lent his arm to balance her on the icy sidewalk.

  She wasn’t looking forward to the ride home. Conner, she sensed, was more accustomed to rejecting women than being rejected. Maybe he’d be angry. Or worse, maybe he wouldn’t even care. Either way would be painful—but like pulling out a splinter or setting a broken bone, it had to be done.

  As he helped her into his Jeep and went around to the driver’s side, Megan rehearsed her farewell speech.

  It’s like this, Conner. I’ve got a lot going on in my life, and . . . No, that sounds like a lame excuse.

  I’ve got this boyfriend in Nashville—we’re practically engaged, so I’m afraid this will have to be good-bye . . .

  That might work, even if it was only a half-truth. She wasn’t engaged to Derek—not even practically. But the little white lie might at least help her out of an awkward spot.

  “What did I tell you about those ladies?” Conner flashed her a grin as he started the vehicle. “I’d say you’ve got yourself two new friends. You’ll like them even more as you get to know them.”

  “They were very nice,” Megan said. “But I won’t be around long enough to get to know them. I have a job in Nashville—and a life.”

  That was a good beginnin
g, Megan thought. All Conner needed to do now was ask her about her life in Nashville. From there, she could steer the conversation to her alleged reason for not seeing him again.

  But Conner, it seemed, wasn’t about to make that easy for her. “I’m still puzzling about one thing,” he said, changing the subject. “That powwow in the kitchen, the three of you with the door closed. What was that all about?”

  “Girl talk. If we’d wanted you to know, we wouldn’t have closed the door.”

  “Understood.” Conner drove in silence for a couple of blocks, then spoke again. “But when you came out, I could tell that something was bothering you—and I had a feeling that it might be me.”

  “You were imagining things. Everything was—is—fine.” Megan stumbled through her fudged reply. She hadn’t expected him to be so intuitive, or so direct.

  “Is it?” he asked. “If you’ll pardon the metaphor, I’m a man who believes in ‘taking the bull by the horns.’ If you heard something about me in that kitchen, I’d like an equal chance to explain myself.”

  Megan sighed. She was cornered. There was only one way out—tell the truth. But she wasn’t about to tell him everything.

  “It doesn’t matter, not really,” she said. “After all, we agreed to be just friends and have a good time.”

  “So tell me, Megan,” he said.

  “All right.” She shifted in the seat, turning slightly to face him. “I was told that you’d fallen head over heels for that singer at the Christmas Ball, and you were stacking all your hopes on the chance that she’d show up again, so you could meet her.”

  “Oh,” he said.

  “Not that I care. I don’t own you, Conner. If you’ve fallen for another woman, that’s none of my business. It’s just that . . .” She groped for the right words.

  “ ‘Just that,’ what?” He turned onto Main Street. Twinkling Christmas lights shed glowing colors through the windshield.

  “Just that it’s so . . . so stupid! You don’t even know her. Just because she’s pretty and can sing, that doesn’t mean she’s a nice person.”