Miracle On Christmas Eve. Shirley JumpЧитать онлайн книгу.
stay in Riverbend as long as I can, but on one condition.” He approached her, his gaze holding a hint of a dare.
Desire tightened in Jessica’s gut. A crazy feeling. She barely knew this man, had nothing in common with him, and five seconds ago had been on the brink of slugging him. Her attraction to him was nothing more than misplaced wanderlust.
“What do you mean, one condition?” she asked.
“You give something back.”
“You can’t bargain with me. I’m just giving you some advice.”
He took another step closer. She inhaled the scent of his cologne again, watched his blue eyes. Wondered for a fleeting second what it would be like to kiss him. To have a man hold her again, love her, wrap her against his chest and make her feel safe. Fill that empty space in her bed, her heart, her life.
“This town needs you,” C.J. said, “and I need you. I’ll stay in Riverbend, but only if you do, too.”
“I’m sorry,” she said, backing up a step, away from those eyes, from their nearly hypnotic power that dimmed her common sense. She backed up until she hit the solid, sane, ordinary edge of the table. “I’ve already bought my ticket and I’m going, whether you or anyone else likes it.”
“Didn’t you just say that children should come first?”
“Well, yes, but I meant your own.”
“From what I’ve heard, the people around here consider you a Christmas staple for their children. You give them the magic, that little extra something in the season. Without Mrs. Claus, they say, Christmas in Riverbend just won’t be the same. So I’m asking you to hang up that bikini—” he paused long enough to take a breath, and she wondered if he was picturing her in said swimsuit, and what kind of image he was seeing “—and get out your red suit.”
“If you can prove to me that there is one ounce of Christmas spirit left in this town, then—” she drew in a breath, knowing she was crazy for even letting this thought pass by her lips but letting it go anyway because some tiny part of her still had hope, in the children, the people of Riverbend “—then I’ll consider staying.”
“Thank you,” C.J. said, the relief so clear she could almost see the weight of stress lift from his shoulders. “You’ve just—”
“Don’t thank me yet.” She held up a finger. “Because if I do stay, and that’s a big if, there’s one other thing Riverbend is going to need to make this Christmas perfect.”
“If it’s a reindeer, I have one on its way. If you want a twelve-foot tree, I’ll call the arborist tomorrow. A giant—”
“No, none of those.” Jessica drew in a breath. It was about time she quit the solo act. And besides, she had no doubt Mr. Get-Out-of-Town-Fast C. J. Hamilton would turn her down before the first snowflake fell on Riverbend. “What we really need in this town is a new Mr. Claus.”
CHAPTER THREE
THE WIDE BLUE EYES regarded C.J. with suspicion. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Of course I do. Done it a hundred times.” He picked up one of the—what the heck were they called anyway?—multicolored doohickeys on the table and hoped his daughter couldn’t tell he was lying through his teeth.
Normally he wasn’t a man given to lying, but then again, he wasn’t normally a man used to being a father, either. He’d hoped to show up in town, get Jessica Patterson’s help and then wham-bam, win over his daughter, thereby starting his new vocation off on the right foot, making the rest a piece of cake.
Clearly, he’d seen Little Orphan Annie one too many times.
Thus far, Jessica had refused to cooperate—okay maybe his idea had been a little crazy—and had thrown out her own crazy idea about him playing the big jolly Mr. to her Mrs., then herded him out of her house, telling him to go see his daughter.
Which he was doing. Unsuccessfully.
“I don’t think you do,” Sarah said, shaking her head. They were standing in the guest room LuAnn Rivers had set up as a temporary bedroom for Sarah—a bedroom which was quickly becoming permanent, mainly because his daughter still refused to go back to Kiki’s apartment with C.J., clearly regarding him more as a kidnapper than a father. LuAnn had left the two of them here alone, saying she figured they would bond while Sarah got ready for a birthday party.
So far they’d bonded about as well as two pieces of wet tape.
Sarah had started talking to him—sort of—but only after a stern lecture from LuAnn, and only in monosyllabic words and eye rolls.
“I tied the bow on your dress for you, didn’t I?” C.J. chanced a glance at the lopsided, twisted mess he’d made of the pink satin ribbon. Maybe not the best testament to his fashion skills. Good thing Sarah didn’t have eyes at the back of her head. If she could see what he’d done to the sash, she’d never let him wield a brush near her curly locks.
Sarah gave him another dubious look. “I want Kiki to do it.”
Kiki. Her mother. C.J. didn’t find it in the least surprising that Kiki wouldn’t have wanted to be called Mommy.
“Kiki can’t do it, honey,” C.J. said, bending down to Sarah’s level. As he did, the movement brought back another conversation, a memory of his own, slamming into him with a tidal force, nearly rocking him back on his heels. Someone telling him that he was about to be let down again—by the one person who was supposed to always be there. C.J. swiped the image away, focused again on Sarah’s wide blue eyes. “She’s…gone.”
Sarah pouted, arms tight against her chest. “Everyone keeps telling me that. But I don’t want her to be gone.”
C.J. bit back a sigh. So far he was striking out as a father. He needed a “Dummies” manual. A crash course. A miracle. “Listen, Sarah, why don’t I—”
“No! I don’t want you to do it. Kiki does it right. You’re a boy. Boys don’t know how to do girl hair.”
She had a point.
“We could wait for LuAnn to come back,” C.J. said. Why had LuAnn left? What was she thinking? He had no clue how to handle this. And what if Sarah started crying? Or pitched a fit?
He was so far over his head, it was a wonder he could see daylight.
“She’s at the hairdresser’s.” When Sarah said the word, it came out hare-testers. “That takes lots of time ’cuz they gotta put the colors in it and make it all curly again.”
C.J. cursed himself for ever telling LuAnn he could do this on his own. Clearly, the visit to Jessica Patterson’s house had left him on edge. With that feeling of unfinished business between them.
But she’d been right, damn it. He was hoping for the quick fix, so that he could just add Sarah into his life, like she was a potted plant.
It wasn’t going to work that way. And the sooner C.J. figured out a way to muddle through this new “normal,” the better. He’d start with the hair doohickeys and move forward from there.
Sarah glared at him. “I’m gonna be late. And then Cassidy will never talk to me again ’cuz I missed her party and it’s all your fault. And Kiki’s.” She plopped onto her bed and turned away. One of her dozen stuffed unicorns fell off the twin and tumbled to the floor, little sparkles dusting the dark-blue carpet.
C.J. fumbled for the brush, but the doohickey ponytail things caught on his fingers, the little round balls click-clacking together, giving him an extra quartet of thumbs. The brush slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor, bonking Mr. Unicorn on the head.
He looked at Sarah, hoping she would laugh at his hapless attempt. He even held up his multicolored thumbs. She ignored him, instead bending to pick up the brush and then putting it on her nightstand.