Christmas Wishes

by Debbie Macomber

  The next thing Susannah knew, her alarm was buzzing angrily. With the noise came a piercing pain that shot straight through her temple. She groped for the clock, turned it off and sighed with relief. Sitting up in bed proved to be equally overwhelming and she groaned.

  When she’d managed to maneuver herself into the kitchen, she saw the aspirin bottle and remembered that Nate had insisted on setting it out the night before.

  “Bless that man,” she said aloud and winced at the sound of her own voice.

  By the time she arrived at the office, she was operating on only three cylinders. Eleanor Brooks didn’t seem to be any better off than Susannah was. They took one look at each other and smiled knowingly.

  “Your coffee’s ready,” her assistant informed her.

  “Did you have a cup yourself?”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything in the mail?”

  “Nothing that can’t wait. Mr. Hammer was in earlier. He told me to give you this magazine and said you’d be as impressed as he was.” Susannah glanced at the six-year-old issue of Business Monthly, a trade magazine that was highly respected in the industry.

  “It’s several years old,” Susannah noted, wondering why her employer would want her to read it now.

  “Mr. Hammer said there was a special feature in there about your friend.”

  “My friend?” Susannah didn’t understand.

  “Your friend,” Eleanor Brooks repeated. “The one with the sexy eyes—Nathaniel Townsend.”

  Chapter

  9

  Susannah waited until Eleanor had left the office before opening the magazine. The article on Nathaniel Townsend was the lead feature. The picture showed a much younger Nate standing in front of a shopping-mall outlet for Rainy Day Cookies, the most successful cookie chain in the country. He was holding a huge chocolate chip cookie.

  Rainy Day Cookies were Susannah’s absolute favorite. There were several varieties, but the chocolate chip ones were fantastic.

  Two paragraphs into the article, Susannah thought she was going to be physically ill. She stopped reading and closed her eyes to the waves of nausea that lapped against her. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she resolutely focused her attention on the article, storing away the details of Nate’s phenomenal success in her numb mind.

  He had started his cookie company in his mother’s kitchen while still in college. His specialty was chocolate chip cookies, and they were so popular, he soon found himself caught up in a roller-coaster ride that had led him straight to the top of the corporate world. By age twenty-eight, Nate Townsend was a multimillionaire.

  Now that she thought about it, an article she’d read six or seven months ago in the same publication had said the company was recently sold for an undisclosed sum, which several experts had estimated to be a figure so staggering Susannah had gasped out loud.

  Bracing her elbows on the desk, Susannah took several calming breaths. She’d made a complete idiot of herself over Nate, and worse, he had let her. She suspected this humiliation would stay with her for the rest of her life.

  To think she’d baked the cookie king of the world chocolate chip cookies, and in the process nearly set her kitchen on fire. But that degradation couldn’t compare to yesterday’s little pep talk when she’d spoken to him about drive, ambition and purpose, before—dear heaven, it was too much—she’d offered him a job. How he must have laughed at that.

  Eleanor Brooks brought in the mail and laid it on the corner of Susannah’s desk. Susannah looked up at her and knew then and there that she wasn’t going to be able to cope with the business of the day.

  “I’m going home.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “If anyone needs me, tell them I’m home sick.”

  “But…”

  Susannah knew she’d shocked her assistant. In all the years she’d been employed by H&J Lima, Susannah had never used a single day of her sick leave. There’d been a couple of times she probably should have stayed home, but she’d insisted on working anyway.

  “I’ll see you Monday morning,” she said on her way out the door.

  “I hope you’re feeling better then.”

  “I’m sure I will be.” She needed some time alone to lick her wounds and gather the scattered pieces of her pride. To think that only a few hours earlier she’d drunkenly declared her undying love to Nate Townsend!

  That was the worst of it.

  When Susannah walked into her apartment she felt as if she was stumbling into a bomb shelter. For the moment she was hidden from the world outside. Eventually she’d have to go back and face it, but for now she was safe.

  She picked up the afghan her sister had crocheted for her, wrapped it around her shoulders and sat staring sightlessly into space.

  What an idiot she’d been! What a fool! Closing her eyes, she leaned her head against the back of the sofa and drew in several deep breaths, releasing the anger and hurt before it fermented into bitterness. She refused to dwell on the might-have-beens and the if-onlys, opting instead for a more positive approach. Next time, she would know enough not to involve her heart. Next time, she’d take care not to make such a fool of herself.

  It astonished her when she awoke an hour later to realize she’d fallen asleep. Tucking the blanket more securely around her, she analyzed her situation.

  Things weren’t so bad. She’d achieved her primary goal and was vice president in charge of marketing. The first female in the company’s long history to hold such a distinguished position, she reminded herself. Her life was good. If on occasion she felt the yearning for a family of her own, there was always Emily, who was more than willing to share. Heaving a sigh, Susannah told herself that she lacked for nothing. She was respected, hardworking and healthy. Yes, life was good.

  Her head ached and her stomach didn’t feel much better, but at noon, Susannah heated some chicken noodle soup and forced that down. She was putting the bowl in the dishwasher when the telephone rang. Ms. Brooks was the only one who knew she was home, and her assistant would call her only if it was important. Susannah answered the phone just as she would in her office.

  “Susannah Simmons.”

  “Susannah, it’s Nate.”

  She managed to swallow a gasp. “Hello, Nate,” she said as evenly as possible. “What can I do for you.”

  “I called the office and your assistant said you’d gone home sick.”

  “Yes. I guess I had more to drink last night than I realized. I had one doozy of a hangover when I woke up this morning.” But she didn’t add how her malady had worsened once she read the article about him.

  “Did you find the aspirin on the kitchen counter?”

  “Yes. Now that I think about it, you were by last night, weren’t you?” She was thinking fast, wanting to cover her tracks. “I suppose I made a fool of myself,” she said, instilling a lightness in her tone. “I didn’t say anything to embarrass you—or me, did I?”

  He chuckled softly. “You don’t remember?”

  She did, but she wasn’t going to admit it. “Some of it, but most of the evening’s kind of fuzzy.”

  “Once I’m back in Seattle I’ll help you recall every single word.” His voice was low, seductive and filled with promise.

  That was one guarantee, however, that Susannah had no intention of accepting.

  “I…probably made a complete idiot of myself,” she mumbled. “If I were you, I’d forget anything I said. Obviously, I can’t be held responsible for it.”

  “Susannah, Susannah, Susannah,” Nate said gently. “Let’s take this one step at a time.”

  “I…think we should talk about it later, I really do…because it’s all too obvious I wasn’t myself.” Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. Furious at this display of emotion, she wiped them aside with the back of her hand.

  “You’re feeling okay now?”

  “Yes…no. I was about to lie down.”

  “Then I’ll let you,” Nate said. “I’ll be bac
k Sunday. My flight should arrive early afternoon. I’d like us to have dinner together.”

  “Sure,” she said, without thinking, willing to agree to just about anything in order to end this conversation. She was still too raw, still bleeding. By Sunday, she’d be able to handle the situation far more effectively. By Sunday, she could disguise her pain.

  “I’ll see you around five then.”

  “Sunday,” she echoed, feeling like a robot programmed to do exactly as its master requested. She had no intention of having dinner with Nate, none whatsoever. He’d find out why soon enough.

  The only way Susannah made it through Saturday was by working. She went to her office and sorted through the mail Ms. Brooks had left on her desk. News of her promotion was to be announced in the Sunday business section of the Seattle Times, but apparently word had already leaked out, probably through her boss; there was a speaking invitation in the mail, for a luncheon at a conference of local salespeople who had achieved a high level of success. The request was an honor and Susannah sent a note of acceptance to the organizer. She considered it high praise to have been asked. The date of the conference was the seventeenth, which was only two weeks away, so she spent a good part of the morning making notes for her speech.

  On Sunday, Susannah woke feeling sluggish and out of sorts. She recognized the source of her discomfort almost instantly. This afternoon, she would confront Nate. For the past two days, she’d gone over in her mind exactly what she planned to say, how she’d act.

  Nate arrived at four-thirty. She answered his knock, dressed in navy blue slacks and a cream shell-knit sweater. Her hair was neatly rolled into a chignon.

  “Susannah.” His gaze was hungry as he stepped across the threshold and reached for her.

  It was too late to hide her reaction by the time she realized he intended to kiss her. He swept her into his arms and eagerly pressed his mouth over hers. Despite everything that he’d failed to tell her, Susannah felt an immediate excitement she couldn’t disguise.

  Nate slipped his fingers into her hair, removing the pins that held it in place, while he leisurely moved his mouth over hers.

  “Two days have never seemed so long,” he breathed, then nibbled on her lower lip.

  Regaining her composure, she broke away, her shoulders heaving. “Would you like some coffee?”

  “No. The only thing I want is you.”

  She started to walk away from him, but Nate caught her, hauling her back into the warm shelter of his arms. He linked his hands at the small of her back and gazed down at her, his eyes soft and caressing. Gradually, his expression altered.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Yes…and no,” she admitted dryly. “I happened upon an article in an old issue of Business Monthly. Does that tell you anything?”

  He hesitated, and for a moment Susannah wondered if he was going to say anything or not.

  “So you know?”

  “That you’re the world’s cookie king, or once were—yes, I know.”

  His eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you angry?”

  She sighed. A good deal depended on her delivery, and although she’d practiced her response several times, it was more difficult than she’d expected. She was determined, however, to remain calm and casual.

  “I’m more embarrassed than amused,” she said. “I wish you’d said something before I made such a fool of myself.”

  “Susannah, you have every right to be upset.” He let her go and rubbed the back of his neck as he began to walk back and forth between the living room and kitchen. “It isn’t like it was a deep dark secret. I sold the business almost six months ago, and I was taking a sabbatical—hell, I needed one. I’d driven myself as far as I could. My doctor thinks I was on the verge of a complete physical collapse. When I met you, I was just coming out of it, learning how to enjoy life again. The last thing I wanted to do was sit down and talk about the past thirteen years. I’d put Rainy Day Cookies behind me, and I was trying to build a new life.”

  Susannah crossed her arms. “Did you ever intend to tell me?”

  “Yes!” he said vehemently. “Thursday. You were so sweet to have offered me a job and I knew I had to say something then, but you were…”

  “Tipsy,” she finished for him.

  “All right, tipsy. You have to understand why I didn’t. The timing was all wrong.”

  “You must have got a good laugh from the cookie disaster,” she said, surprised at how steady her voice remained. Her poise didn’t even slip, and she was proud of herself.

  The edges of his mouth quivered, and it was apparent that he was struggling not to laugh.

  “Go ahead,” she said, waving her hand dramatically. “I suppose those charred cookies and the smoldering cookie sheets were pretty comical. I don’t blame you. I’d probably be in hysterics if the situation were reversed.”

  “It isn’t that. The fact that you made those cookies was one of the sweetest things anyone’s ever done for me. I want you to know I was deeply touched.”

  “I didn’t do it for you,” she said, struggling to keep the anger out of her voice. “It was a trial by fire—” Hearing what she’d said, Susannah closed her eyes.

  “Susannah—”

  “You must’ve got a real kick out of that little pep talk I gave you the other day, too. Imagine me talking to you about drive, motivation and goals.”

  “That touched me, too,” he insisted.

  “Right on the funny bone, I’ll bet.” She faked a laugh herself just to prove what a good sport she was. Still, she wasn’t exactly keen on being the brunt of one.

  Nate paused, then gestured at her. “I suppose it looks bad considered from your point of view.”

  “Looks bad,” she echoed, with a short hysterical laugh. “That’s one way of putting it!”

  Nate strode from one end of the room to the other. If he didn’t stop soon, he was going to wear a path in the carpet.

  “Are you willing to put this misunderstanding behind us, Susannah, or are you going to hold it against me? Are you willing to ruin what we have over a mistake?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Actually she did, but she didn’t want him to accuse her of making snap decisions. It would be so easy for Nate to talk his way out of this. But Susannah had been humiliated. How could she possibly trust him now? He’d thought nothing of hiding an important portion of his life from her.

  “How long will it be before you come to a conclusion about us?”

  “I don’t know that, either.”

  “I guess dinner is out?”

  She nodded, her face muscles so tight, they ached.

  “Okay, think everything through. I trust you to be completely fair and unbiased. All I want you to do is ask yourself one thing. If the situation were reversed, how would you have handled it?”

  “All right.” She’d grant him that much, although she already knew what she would have done—and it wasn’t keep up a charade the way he had.

  “There’s something else I want you to think about,” he said when she held open the door for him.

  “What?” Susannah was frantic to get him out of her home. The longer he stayed, the more difficult it was to remain angry with him.

  “This.” He kissed her then and it was the type of kiss that drove to the very depths of her soul. His mouth on hers was hot, the kiss deep and moist and so filled with longing that her knees almost buckled. Tiny sounds interrupted the moment, and Susannah realized she was the one making them.

  When Nate released her, she backed away and nearly stumbled. Breathing hard, she leaned against the doorframe and heaved in giant gulps of oxygen.

  Satisfied, Nate smiled infuriatingly. “Admit it, Susannah,” he whispered and ran his index finger over her collarbone. “We were meant for each other.”

  “I…I’m not willing to admit anything.”

  His expression looked forlorn. It was no doubt calculated to evoke sympathy, but it wouldn’t work. Susannah would
n’t be fooled a second time.

  “You’ll phone me?” he pressed.

  “Yes.” When the moon was in the seventh house, which should be somewhere around the time the government balanced the budget. Perhaps a decade from now.

  For two days, Susannah’s life returned to a more normal routine. She went in to the office early and worked late, doing everything she could to avoid Nate, although she was sure he’d wait patiently for some signal from her. After all, he, too, had his pride; she was counting on that.

  When she arrived home on Wednesday, there was a folded note taped to her door. Susannah stared at it for several thundering heartbeats, then finally reached for it.

  She waited until she’d put her dinner in the microwave before she read it. Her heart was pounding painfully hard as she opened the sheet and saw three words: “Call me. Please.”

  Susannah gave a short hysterical laugh. Ha! Nate Townsend could tumble into a vat of melted chocolate chips before she’d call him again. Guaranteed he’d say or do something that would remind her of what a fool she’d been! And yet…Damn, but it was hard to stay angry with him!

  When the phone rang she was still ambivalent. Jumping back, she glared at it before answering.

  “Hello,” she said cautiously, quaveringly.

  “Susannah? Is that you?”

  “Oh, hi, Emily.”

  “Good grief, you scared me. I thought you were sick. You sounded so weak.”

  “No. No, I’m fine.”

  “I hadn’t talked to you in a while and I was wondering how you were doing.”

  “Fine,” she repeated.

  “Susannah!” Her sister’s tone made her name sound like a warning. “I know you well enough to realize something’s wrong. I also know it probably has to do with Nate. You haven’t mentioned him the last few times we’ve talked, but before you seemed to be overflowing with things you wanted to say about him.”

  “I’m not seeing much of Nate these days.”