Christmas Wishes: Christmas Letters / Rainy Day Kisses. Debbie MacomberЧитать онлайн книгу.
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?
The phone woke K.O. out of a dead sleep. She rolled over, glanced at the clock on her nightstand and groaned. It was already past eight. Lying on her stomach, she reached for the phone and hoped it wasn’t a potential employer, asking her to come in for an interview that morning. Actually, she prayed it was a job interview but one with more notice.
“Good morning,” she said in her best businesslike voice.
“Katherine, it’s LaVonne. I didn’t phone too early, did I?”
In one easy motion, K.O. drew herself into a sitting position, swinging her legs off the bed. “Not at all.” She rubbed her face with one hand and stifled a yawn.
“So,” her neighbor breathed excitedly. “How’d it go?”
K.O. needed a moment to consider her response. LaVonne was obviously asking about her evening with Wynn; however, she hadn’t had time to analyze it yet. “Dinner was incredible,” she offered and hoped that would satisfy her friend’s curiosity.
“Of course dinner was incredible. Jerome promised me it would be. I’m talking about you and Wynn. He’s very nice, don’t you think? Did you notice the way he couldn’t take his eyes off you? Didn’t I tell you? It’s just as I saw in the kitty litter and the Raisin Bran. You two are meant for each other.”
“Well,” K.O. mumbled, not knowing which question to answer first. She’d prefer to avoid them all. She quickly reviewed the events of the evening and was forced to admit one thing. “Wynn wasn’t anything like I expected.”
“He said the same about you.”
“You’ve talked to him?” If K.O. wasn’t awake before, she certainly was now. “What did he say?” she asked in a rush, not caring that LaVonne would realize how interested she was.
“Exactly that,” LaVonne said. “Wynn told me you were nothing like he expected. He didn’t know what to think when you walked into my condo. He was afraid the evening would end with someone calling the police—and then he had a stupendous night. That was the word he used—stupendous.”
“Really.” K.O. positively glowed with pleasure.
“He had the look when he said it, too.”
“What look?”
“The look,” LaVonne repeated, emphasizing the word, “of a man who’s falling in love. You had a good time, didn’t you?”
“I did.” K.O. doubted she could have lied. She did have a wonderful evening. Shockingly wonderful, in fact, and that made everything ten times worse. She wanted to view Wynn as a lunatic confounding young parents, a grinch out to steal Christmas from youngsters all across America. How could she berate him and detest him if she was in danger of falling in love with him? This was getting worse and worse.
“I knew it!” LaVonne sounded downright gleeful. “From the moment I saw those raisins floating in the milk, I knew. The vision told me everything.”
“Everything?”
“Everything,” LaVonne echoed. “It came to me, as profound as anything I’ve seen with my psychic gift. You and Dr. Jeffries are perfect together.”
K.O. buried her face in her hand. She’d fallen asleep in a haze of wonder and awakened to the shrill ring of her phone. She couldn’t explain last night’s feelings in any rational way.
She wasn’t attracted to Wynn, she told herself. How could she be? The man who believed children should set their own rules? The man who wanted to eliminate Santa Claus? But she was beginning to understand what was going on here. For weeks she’d been stuck inside her condo, venturing outside only to meet Christmas-letter clients. If she wasn’t transcribing medical records, she was filling out job applications. With such a lack of human contact, it was only natural that she’d be swept along on the tide of romance LaVonne had so expertly arranged for her.
“Wynn told me you were seeing him again this evening,” LaVonne said eagerly.
“I am?” K.O. vaguely remembered that. “Oh, right, I am.” Her mind cleared and her memory fell into place like an elevator suddenly dropping thirteen floors. “Yes, as it happens,” she said, trying to think of a way out of this. “I invited Wynn to accompany me to the Figgy Pudding event at West Lake Plaza.” She’d invited him. What was she thinking? What was she thinking? Mentally she slapped her hand against her forehead. Before this afternoon, she had to find an excuse to cancel.
“He’s very sweet, isn’t he?” LaVonne said.
“He is.” K.O. didn’t want to acknowledge it but he was. He’d done it on purpose; she just didn’t know why. What was his purpose in breaking down her defenses?
She needed to think. She pulled her feet up onto the bed and wrapped one arm around her knees. He had been sweet and alarmingly wonderful. Oh, he was clever. But what was behind all that charm? Nothing good, she’d bet.
“I have more to tell you,” LaVonne said, lowering her voice to a mere whisper. “It happened again this morning.” She paused. “I was feeding the boys.”
K.O. had half a mind to stop her friend, but for some perverse reason she didn’t.
“And then,” LaVonne added, her voice gaining volume, “when I poured the dry cat food into their bowls, some of it spilled on the floor.”
“You