Christmas in Seattle: Christmas Letters / The Perfect Christmas. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
and unassuming and, shock of shocks, likeable.
After being assured by Jerome that their meal had already been taken care of, Wynn left a generous tip. After fervent thanks and a protracted farewell, they collected their coats. Wynn helped K.O. on with hers, then she wrapped her scarf around her neck.
When they ventured into the night, they saw that snow had begun to fall. The Seattle streets were decorated for the season with sparkling white lights on the bare trees. The scene was as festive as one could imagine. A horsedrawn carriage passed them, the horse’s hooves clopping on the pavement, its harness jingling.
“Shall we?” Wynn asked.
K.O. noticed that the carriage was traveling in the opposite direction from theirs, but she couldn’t have cared less. For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted a carriage ride. “That would be lovely.” Not only was Wynn a gentleman, but a romantic, as well, which seemed quite incongruous with his free-and-easy upbringing.
Wynn hailed the driver. Then he handed K.O. into the carriage before joining her. He took the lap robe, spread it across her legs, and slipped his arm around her shoulders. It felt like the most natural thing in the world to be in his embrace.
“I love Christmas,” K.O. confessed.
Wynn didn’t respond, which was probably for the best, since he’d actually put in writing that he wanted to bury Santa Claus.
The driver flicked the reins and the carriage moved forward.
“It might surprise you to know that I happen to feel the same way you do about the holidays.”
“But you said—”
He brought a finger to her lips. “We agreed not to discuss my book.”
“Yes, but I have to know…”
“Then I suggest you read The Free Child. You’ll understand my philosophies better once you do. Simply put, I feel it’s wrong to mislead children. That’s all I really said. Can you honestly object to that?”
“If it involves Santa, I can.”
“Then we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
She was happy to leave that subject behind. The evening was perfect, absolutely perfect, and she didn’t want anything to ruin it. With large flakes of snow drifting down and the horse clopping steadily along, the carriage swaying, it couldn’t have been more romantic.
Wynn tightened his arm around her and K.O. pressed her head against his shoulder.
“I’m beginning to think LaVonne knows her Raisin Bran,” Wynn whispered.
She heard the smile in his voice. “And her cat litter,” she whispered back.
“I like her cats,” he said. “Tom, Phillip and…”
“Martin,” she supplied. The men in her neighbor’s life all happened to be badly spoiled and much-loved cats.
The carriage dropped them off near West Lake Center. Wynn got down first and then helped K.O. “Are you cold?” he asked. “I can try to find a cab if you’d prefer not to walk.”
“Stop,” she said suddenly. All this perfection was confusing, too shocking a contrast with her previous impressions of Dr. Wynn Jeffries.
He frowned.
“I don’t know if I can deal with this.” She started walking at a fast pace, her mind spinning. It was difficult to reconcile this thoughtful, interesting man with the hardhearted destroyer of Christmas Zelda had told her about.
“Deal with what?” he asked, catching up with her.
“You—you’re wonderful.”
He laughed. “That’s bad?”
“It’s not what I expected from you.”
His steps matched hers. “After this morning, I wasn’t sure what to expect from you, either. There’s a big difference between the way you acted then and how you’ve been this evening. I didn’t change. You did.”
“I know.” She looked up at him, wishing she understood what was happening. She recognized attraction when she felt it, but could this be real?
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 5
The